The Devil Amongst Demons
by Keepitlocked
Summary: Alex Rider is now nineteen and a fully fledged member of MI6. A name known all over the world, he is sought after by almost every intelligence agency for a mission, and wanted by the same amount of terrorist organisations for his death - Alex has it hard. Sent back to Brecon Beacons for some protection from said terrorists, how will the SAS handle such an unexpected surprise?
1. Chapter 1

Sergeant Daniel Sanders sat at his desk, drumming his fingers on the polished oak wood. MI6 had informed him of the new temporary addition to the SAS – Cub was coming back. The small, blond and quiet schoolboy that had been here… what was it? Four, or was it five, years ago?

MI6 had clued him in on Cub's status. Safe to say, he was disturbed and troubled.

Apparently, Cub was considered as the top; one of the best intelligence operatives in the entire fucking world.

Sanders had difficulty just wrapping his head around that. Dear, young Cub. The best of MI6. He couldn't have been more than a teenager when he was last at SAS, so what had happened so quickly in the past five years to get him up there? He knew Cub had been on missions, but… who exactly was he?

Cub was due to arrive any minute now and Sanders leaned back in his chair, shutting away the confusion and wonder so the man known for making SAS a living hell was present and centre.

As if on cue, a hard knock sounded on the door to his office.

"Enter."

Whatever Sanders was expecting, was not the person he was seeing in front of him now. Almost dumbstruck, the only thing that saved him was the factor of how long he'd worked in the SAS. Emotions were easy to hide.

The Sergeant studied the handsome young man in front of him. Blank face, but serious eyes. Tall, around six foot two inches, with a solid frame. Broad shoulders tapered down to a slim waist – Sanders would bet all his money that women swooned over a guy like this – and his blond hair was lightened by the sun. He looked nothing of the quietly innocent Cub the Sergeant remembered.

As the man strode into the room, Sanders couldn't help but notice the powerful, languid gait he had. Cub was never _that_ confident, nor did he command so much… _attention_.

He would make a fine leader, Sanders absently assessed. "Do you know why you're back here, Cub?"

Dark amusement seemed to flash through his brown eyes. "Refresher course. And protection, of course."

Protection? This was news to Sanders; and he didn't like surprises. "Protection from what?" he asked sharply. "Does it put my men in danger?"

"Not necessarily." Cub said lightly. "Apparently, I've caused too much of a ruckus with a few of the terrorist organisations. They've gotten pissed and now they're after me." He pulled a sour face. "It doesn't help that somebody put a hit out on me worth a couple zero's."

A _few_ terrorist organisations? A couple _zero's_? thought Sanders incredulously, just who _was_ Cub?

"MI6 thought, instead of leaving me to my own devices, where I'd surely destroy a whole city, sink a couple ships and maybe accidentally shoot some important politician and a few civilians, they decided putting me back here was for the best. And I agreed, because what other protection could be better than a whole camp full of SAS soldiers who are trained to handle terrorists?"

Floundering around at the bombardment of information, Sanders cleared his throat. "Could you tell me your real name, Cub?"

"That's against protocol, sir, _and_ against MI6. But then again, when have I ever listened to them?" Cub smiled. "Everywhere I go on a mission, it's like everybody knows my name. Sometimes, I don't know why I bother going undercover. I don't know if you've heard of me, sir, but my name is Alex Rider."

Forgetting about the Sergeant he was supposed to be, Sanders slammed a fist down onto his desk in utter shock. "_Alex Rider?_ My god, Cub, of course I know of you!" He started rattling off the rumours that had been flying around for years now in the British militia. "You parachuted into a museum and shot at the Prime Minister. You skateboarded down a mountain on an ironing board. There were rumours about you stopping some nuclear detonation. We heard you were on Air Force One, and one of the men here witnessed you fighting some guy on a hot air balloon, he also saw the satellite fall out and squash a woman."

Cub winced at that.

Sanders stared at Cub, only now realising everything he'd just said was done by the _person standing there like it was all normal_.

"One of the less believable tales was that you went up to space, but I didn't believe _that_ could have – it's true, isn't it?" The resigned look that had entered Cub's eyes confirmed it.

"_You_ were the agent to take down Scorpia." Sanders blurted out.

At the mention of Scorpia, the Sergeant noticed Cub's mouth tighten in barely restrained anger. His eyes were cold and pitiless. "I was." No other information was offered. Sanders knew a touchy topic when he saw one.

Over the initial shock of who Cub really was, Sanders collected himself. "It was said you were thrown into a pit of scorpions at one point. You somehow managed to escape that, and then got tossed into _another_ pit, but this time, full of king cobras. You were bitten by both animals, but still managed to get out of _that_ and stop multiple assassins from killing the President of the United States. All while you had seven bullets in you as well."

Cub's lips twitched as he struggled to keep back a smile. "Actually, sir, it was a pit of scorpions, then a pit of lions – they thought it'd be a funny cliché – and _then_ a pit of cobras. I got bitten by the cobras and I was only shot twice – I seriously doubt anyone could survive seven bullets – and drugged at the time. I could barely walk straight. Took me a day or two to recover, and then I only just managed to get to the White House in time. I basically fell on top of the President after securing the perimeter. Having a few injuries does that to you. The ones who stopped the assassins was CIA. Afterwards, the President offered to have me over for dinner and a talk – I guess me pulling my self-made stitches and bleeding all over him, kind of made us fast friends – but I declined."

Sanders could feel his mouth open and closing and opening again. He asked the first question that popped into his mind. "Why the hell would you decline dinner with the _President_?"

Shoulders shrugged. "I keep away from the government as much as I can – aside from the missions, obviously. He wanted to offer me a medal too, but I told him to just keep my identity as secret as he could." Cub smiled wryly. "I guess he either told someone who I was, or more people who knew me saw me there then I thought. But then again, even if he did, my file is now protected by MI6 as well as CIA, homeland security, and all these other American services, so I guess it all works out. If someone wanted it, they'd have to go through a hell of a lot of protection, firewalls and encryption codes to get it."

"The _President_ offered you a _medal_ and you _decline_? Just because you don't _like_ the government?"

"Yes, sir."

"Amazing," Sanders muttered. Cub spoke of the government, secret or otherwise, with such familiarity and ease. "Aren't you compromising security?"

Cub shook his head. "Did I tell you who threw me into the pits? Did I tell you _why_ I was thrown in there? I didn't tell you who the assassin's were. I didn't tell you anything."

"But you told me there was an almost assassination attempt on the President." The Sergeant pointed out.

"There are _always_ attempts on the President, just like there are on our own Prime Minister."

Sanders nodded his understanding in Cub's reasoning.

"Besides, even if I _do_ tell you about my missions, _you_ aren't going to tell anyone. Are you, sir?" A cool mask slipped on to Cub's face, and Sanders had the impression that his next answer had to be the right answer.

"Who do you think I am, Cub? And why the _hell_ do you think I'm here?" He felt a bit insulted at the fact that Cub would imply he would betray his country.

"Just making sure, sir."

"So I heard you flew a commercial plane full of passengers to safety. In the ocean. Why?"

"I found the pilot in one of the toilets, dead, alongside the co-pilot. The plane had been flying on auto-pilot. And I didn't really fly the plane to safety; a flight attendant helped me along. I'd only taken so many flight lessons. I did take out the terrorists who were responsible, though."

"It's said you sunk an island into sea."

Cub surprised the Sergeant with hearty laughter. "_That_ would be a lie."

"So you didn't."

"No, I didn't sink an entire island into sea." Cub admitted. "But I _did_ manage to almost destroy the island in question. Bomb's were about this size," he made out a small object, about the size of a basketball, "but the explosions were huge. Almost flattened the entire island – and kill myself in the process." He talked about having a near death experience so casually. Like an everyday occurrence.

"And what about –"

There was another knock on his door. "Enter!" Sanders barked out. He still had stories to be confirmed and questions to be answered. A young man poked his head in. "What is it?"

"K Unit has arrived and are waiting outside, sir."

He gave an irritated sigh. "Give me a minute, Heath."

"Yes, sir." And the man closed the door.

Sanders turned to Cub, who'd become blank and silent again. "You remember K Unit? They split up for a time after selection, but then got back together."

A smirk. "How could I not? They made it hell on earth for me during those two weeks. Fox is good though."

It struck Sanders at that moment. He had completely forgotten about the soldier who'd been promoted to MI6 years ago. "Ah, yes, how is Fox?"

"Like I said, good. I did a mission with him, back when I'd started getting my… reputation. I've bumped into him from time to time, but haven't been on another mission with him since. He's working his way up in MI6."

A small kindle of feeling found its way in Sanders; he was proud of his soldier. Even if he didn't like MI6.

Another irritable knock tapped on his door. "Ah, sir?"

"What, Cub?"

"I'd rather not have anyone knowing who I really am. I know they're gonna know I'm from MI6, but I'll tell K Unit about the other stuff only when I have to."

A sly smile appeared on Sanders face – Cub was going to be a surprise to the SAS indeed. "It's against protocol, remember?"

Cub gave a relieved smile. "Thank you, sir."

"Enter!"

* * *

**Author's note:_ Another_ idea I had - I have a bunch in my head that I need to put down on paper ): But I'm not quite sure where this will head. Any ideas, readers? I'd really love some help.**


	2. Chapter 2

Four sets of boots clumped into the room, four forbidding men stood to attention, and four pairs of eyes landed on Cub.

From the confusion on their faces, and then the dismissal, Alex could say that they didn't recognise him. He'd have been shocked if they had; he could barely remember _their _faces after all these years. But still... it would've been nice to be recognised.

"Gentlemen," Daniel Sanders said as he leant back in his chair, "It seems you'll be having a...nother member in your unit."

Alex carefully catalogued their reactions. Wolf, like always, was keeping hard at being blank before the Sergeant, but Alex could see the flicker of annoyance in his eyes. Snake was just a picture of understated bewilderment while Eagle, the poor fool, was almost bouncing in his glee. The fourth member, which Alex knew to be Cheetah, was not so subtly sneaking glances at him; he seemed nice enough.

"As of tomorrow, he will be training with you, eating with you, and bunking with you. There is to be no whining."

Wolf coughed. "Sir? How long will..." obviously waiting for something to come up, the unit leader was irritated when no name was given. "How long will our new member be staying with us?"

"Until further notice. His things have been delivered to your cabin while you were having your dinner. All of you start normally tomorrow. His timetable should be with his stuff. Dismissed."

K Unit plus Alex obediently left the office. It was already dark outside.

When they were safely out of range from prying Sergeant ears, Eagle burst.

At the coincidental wording, Alex blinked and gave a soft smile at the image of Eagle bursting into confetti and someone jumping out shouting, "Surprise!" then tell him that the SAS training and MI6 situations were all just an elaborate joke in his life.

...Just some idle thinking for the young super spy.

"So, who are you? What are you doing here? What's your name? And by name, I mean code name, because _everybody_ knows we're not allowed to tell anyone our real names unless the situation needs it. But then again, if you were captured and being tortured for your name, the situation does kind of demand it, but you're not allowed to tell them. So yeah, what's your name?"

Alex was saved from having to say anything to the overenthusiastic man when Wolf growled out, "Shut up, Eagle."

"But why?" Eagle whined. Alex watched him under a cool gaze; what a peculiar man.

"I mean it, Eagle. Shut your mouth, before I do it for you."

"Mouth; shut."

They marched the rest of the way to the cabin in silence. Alex was quite surprised that Eagle had managed to keep himself from asking the questions he was so obviously dying to ask – Eagle had never been so... flamboyantly silly. He'd just ignored him those eleven days of training. Maybe he acted differently around different people. Then again, K Unit seemed used to it, so maybe it was normal behaviour and he'd just restrained himself during those days.

Alex was also quite surprised that Wolf had yet to interrogate him.

As they filed into the cabin, Cheetah closed the door and Wolf turned on Alex.

"Who are you and why are you here?"

_I spoke too soon._

Consequences... consequences...

If he told K Unit, would there be consequences? Alex opted to go for a feel – how much did they know so far?

"Sergeant Sanders hasn't informed you?"

"Obviously no," Wolf rumbled. Though he was a man of short stature – and although Alex was now taller than him – he was still impressive to behold; his very presence was intimidating. He was aggressive, but not unjustly so. Having Eagle on the team was bound to keep the man in an irritated state.

People leapt over fire to do as he told; he wasn't a man one said 'No' to.

It was no wonder he was the leader of K Unit. SAS soldiers were right to fear him.

A tense silence settled into the room as they all watched Alex contemplate what to say and how to say it. Loath to do so, Alex finally relented and gave them something to work with. "You guys remember a certain person called... Cub?"

He gave a small yawn. Their responses were slow in the taking, but in the end, he was pretty amused. Eagle straightened from his slouched posture to stare. "_What_?"

Wolf narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms – a defensive, but also aggressive, position. And Snake was the first to person to form a coherent sounding sentence, "You're not saying you're..." A heavy frown full of confusion settled upon his face as he squinted intensely at Alex, as if the answers to the universe – or more specifically, the answers to who Alex was – would jump out to him.

Alex raised an eyebrow, and silence descended once again as they absorbed that one loaded action.

"Care to explain, guys? I'm a little lost over here." Cheetah drawled. He wasn't enjoying being held out of the loop. But no one was willing to tell him who Cub was – because no one _knew_ who Cub was. "Well, by all means, just leave me hanging! I thought we didn't keep secrets." The man frowned and flopped onto his bunk.

Alex sighed, "I guess it's up to me then. Nice to meet you, Cheetah, you can call me Cub."

"Um, hello, Cub." he said warily.

"I'm K Unit's unofficial fifth member."

Cheetah's eyes locked onto Wolf and the others with an accusatory gaze. "_Fifth_ member?"

"Yup, and as you can see, they're at a loss for words because they're _that_ happy to see me. Makes a person wonder how they survived the years without me. And to answer Wolf's previous question, the reason I'm here is mainly due to MI6."

"M... I... _6_...?" he enunciated slowly. He was glaring daggers at his team members now. He _really_ didn't like surprises. Especially unexpected surprises. Like this one.

Snake and Eagle echoed Cheetah in puzzlement. The medic stood and stopped Ben's replacement from standing too with a hand as he frowned in bemusement. "What's this about MI6 and how come I've never heard of this before?"

"Well," Alex started as he sat down and got comfy on his bunk. "Considering the fact that we haven't made any contact in the last five years, I wouldn't expect you to."

"What have _you_ got to with MI6?"

"Lovely as ever, Wolf. Anyway, I'm here for protection, and to train, but that's beside the point."

"And what, exactly, _is_ the point?" asked Cheetah. He was absolutely lost in this conversation – who was Cub, and why the hell was he _here _for protection? He couldn't have gone into witness protection services? Get a fake identity and go underground? Not even go to the police?

"Well. MI6 controls my movements, and as such, sent me here because it was the best option."

"Wait, wait," interrupted Snake. He pinched the bridge of his nose and gestured to Alex. "Explain this from the start, I'm confused."

"Who wouldn't be? I lead a very difficult life."

"Oh, yeah, right. We'd totally forgotten. You live a very hard life, with your very rich parents."

Alex yawned; he hadn't gotten much sleep the other night. He stripped off his boots and took layers of army clothes off to the black t-shirt underneath. He kept his pants on – dear God, how awkward would _that_ be around K Unit?

All the while, he was completely aware of the others observing him as he slipped beneath the thread bare covers and settled in. He wanted a nice long sleep. He was tired. Four days on high alert and being stressed out with only a couple thirty minute intervals of napping did that to you. He was struggling to keep his eyes open right then; not that he'd let anyone know just how tired he actually was.

He'd barely gotten any time to rest during the ride to Brecon Beacons; he was too busy watching for any attacks. There'd been too many openings and opportunities for an assassin of some kind (from a terrorist organisation or an insane millionaire) to take the hit out on him. The men assigned to bringing him safely to Wales were too busy trying to impress _The _Alex Rider to notice. He yawned again.

"I asked you a fucking question, Cub, and as your unit leader, you better answer me."

He still had no idea what was going on in the mind of Tulip Jones when she gave them that task. They were such dumbarses, and he couldn't understand why –

So. He was going to play it _that_ way. Alex turned around and propped himself up on one elbow to give Wolf a hard look – the one that showed he was different from the teenager he was five years ago. Stinging nicknames and derogatory remarks didn't hurt as much anymore. Not after what he'd endured for MI6.

Social contact was something he'd learnt to let go years ago.

"Keep talking like that, Wolf, because I'm not going to tell you."

"Why not?" asked Snake.

"Eventually, Wolf here will learn that sometimes, being nice can get you somewhere in_stead _of being mean. And grouchy." He sent a lazy smile to Wolf. "Which will get you nowhere. Lighten up; with the work we do, you might never know which day will be your last. I know you know this, so I still don't get why you're going to bother and try to make my life more difficult than it already is."

He shifted around and forced himself to relax. Being around K Unit, for some silly reason, still sent a sliver of apprehension through him. _Guess the fourteen year old me still kinda fears them,_ Alex thought as he drifted – more like fell – off into a deep sleep.

* * *

Alex's alarm, which was actually his phone, disturbed his rest as it vibrated beneath his pillow with its incessant buzzing noises. His hand fumbled around before turning it off.

Still asleep, he raised his head to crack open his eyes and assess the surroundings. Four unfamiliar lumps on bunks were in the room with him, but it clicked to him in an instant.

_K Unit._

It was a bit hard to see when it was so dark. Pre-dawn meant that everything was bathed and blurred in blacks, grays and blues. Silently groaning– if that was even possible – as he got up and out of bed, he stretched in the cool air. He wanted some alone time before the others got up.

He grabbed the essentials and his stuff, shuffling around cautiously in case he bumped into something or someone.

Alex silently slipped outside and shut the door; K Unit was _still_ asleep.

He could see the carbon dioxide he exhaled into the freezing atmosphere as they turned into visible, icy molecules, and started walking. He remembered most of the map he'd tried to memorise during the trip to Beacons.

The sky lightened a little bit as he finally made it to the shower rooms. If it was even called that.

Open stalls.

Alex grimaced in defeated, but still disgusted, acceptance. He much preferred the definitely-more-sophisticated, _closed_ glass shower he had back at his place. Alex gave a tiny shrug to no one in particular though; he'd had it worse than this before. He could deal, but it put a kink into his okay mood.

When the spray of water hit him, he jumped back ten feet and swallowed a yelp. It was ice-cold.

So, he stood there, buck naked and shivering as he waited. Soon, the water was hot enough to have steam billowing around the showers, enveloping Alex and keeping him warm.

He stepped under the shower head and exhaled his breath in a _whoosh_. His half tensed muscles from slight paranoia loosened up and relaxed. He felt boneless. The heat from the water was deliciously hot. It was soothing. And as the droplets frantically drummed on his body, it felt like a non-verbal mantra to let it all go and just _be_. His highly strung out body fell fully limp; and Alex felt like he was just hanging on his skeletal frame. The shower had definitely been a good idea; even if there wasn't a point to it since he was going to get dirty again and surely need five more showers today. He looked forward to the showers if they were all like the one he'd just had.

Now fully dressed and ready to go, he walked outside to be almost blinded. In the short half hour to forty-five minutes he'd been in there, the sky had grown considerably brighter. And as his eyes adjusted, Alex could see a handful of men from where he was standing already leaving their barracks; presumably to also come and take a shower.

Habitually trying to blend in and not get noticed, Alex slinked away to avoid any contact with the soldiers and went back to his cabin.

He found that K Unit were _still_ asleep as he snuck back in, placed his things away, grabbed a book and got back out again.

Clouds rolled in as he started to explore Brecon Beacons; a lot of it was just mud, buildings, training areas, trees and people.

Alex found a nice little niche in the forest partially surrounding the base, it was secluded, mostly dry, covered from anyone who just happened to walk by, and quite comfortable, so he settled in with his book to read.

MI6, hospitals, and keeping up to date with his training took up a lot of his time; so whenever he got the chance for his 'me' time, he took it.

Showers only had _so_ much water, and he had to pay bills, even though he had enough money to last for a long while.

Usually, the time was spent with Tom, whether it was to go out for a kick, be his wingman, giving in to his begging to play some video games or whatever it was. But spending time with his annoying best friend was a given, because they _were_ roommates after all.

With no Tom, practically no MI6, and no hindering injuries, Alex had had a hunch and brought along several books.

Four chapters in, Alex found his interest in the novel had already faded and he couldn't concentrate on the words to save his life. It was slow on the uptake, easily predictable and the writing didn't suit the genre. Besides, he was getting a headache. The few creatures that weren't chased away by gunshots and the stomping feet of soldiers were mostly birds; and they were getting more active as the dawn progressed. It was a bit difficult as he was still getting the hang of it, but he managed to sloppily copy one of their calls.

There was an immediate hush, as if the birds knew that their sort-of-but-not-really-bird-sounding friend wasn't really a bird. Just as quick as it had gone unnaturally quiet, their chirping and chatter came back up again as they flitted uncaringly about, somewhere in the treetops above his head.

Unfolding his legs, Alex decided enough time had passed for K Unit to have gotten up and gone to have breakfast.

But when he got back to the cabin, he was only mildly surprised, like his subconsciousness had already expected it from them, when K Unit was still there.

He was immediately targeted.

"Cub! Where the hell have you been and why the hell did you leave without telling any of us? You could've been taken and killed for all we'd known. And why the hell didn't you wake us? We're late and might miss breakfast, which I bet you haven't missed once in your goddamn rich life!" Wolf had a very black scowl.

Alex held up a finger for every question as he answered. "Well, I didn't want to disturb your sleep, and I only went to go read my book uninterrupted. I didn't want to _disturb your sleep_ and I only just got back from reading the book uninterrupted, whilst not knowing what the time was because I'd left my phone and watch here after I'd taken a shower; forgive me for not coming to wake you up sooner. And the breakfast part is not my fault. I've missed breakfast plenty of times before, so I'm going to point out that if you guys would just _move_ instead of staring at me, maybe you'd make it in time to get some food in your stomachs." Alex walked to his bunk, pulled out his phone from one of the duffel bags to check the time and whistled low. "You guys have eight minutes to get your food or go the rest of the day starved until dinner."

As they realised the logic of his thoughts, Eagle looked horrified and ran out the door crying, "Fooooooooooooood!" Cheetah and Wolf followed suit – not the yelling, the running – and Snake looked from Alex to the open door. "This still isn't going to stop the questions. We – well, I, in any case – know what you're going to try to do, Cub, but it's not going to work with us." he shrugged and called after his unit as he ran, "Save me some food, you idiots!"

Alex shook his head as he placed his book upon the bunk and strolled out the door. How had Snake known he'd avoided, and then distracted, them from asking anymore questions?

The man was psychic. He had to be.

Or they'd talked about him when he was asleep and discussed ways on how to get better answers to their questions and how he was likely to avoid them at all costs and that they'd made plans and thought up tactics to get to their goal of invading his privacy. But that had just been a part of his paranoid dream, _right_?

Yeah... Snake was probably a psychic.

Alex walked into the mess hall and listened to his army boots strike out on the wooden floor boards; it was mostly deserted but for a few other men besides K Unit.

Cheetah was currently choking because he'd been eating too fast, Eagle had already methodically eaten his food, somehow keeping his area clean, and was now looking to be using his utensils as pretend fighter jets in a war zone. Snake was shoveling down his foo – wait, no, he was now pounding on Cheetah's back in an effort to help him dislodge the mush he'd been eating. It seemed to be doing more harm than good.

Wolf was glaring at his plate as he angrily stabbed the food with his fork. Somebody wasn't in a good mood.

"Why the hurry, guys?" A smile quirked up on his face as they all glowered, finally finished their food and scurried to get to their lessons before the drill sergeant kicked their asses.

Whistling a meaningless tune, Alex leisurely made his way to the kitchen as the mess hall door slammed shut on the heels of K Unit.

* * *

Almost twenty minutes later, Alex commended himself as he finished his first half of the sandwich. It was actually really nice. And it was definitely better than anything the other soldiers were getting.

As he made his way to the obstacle course, he saw Eagle, Cheetah, Wolf and the drill sergeant watching as Snake made quick progress across the course. Scottish and nimble on his feet.

Cheetah noticed him first and opened his mouth, but Wolf got in a second before he could. "Cub, where the hell have you been?"

Alex made a point of swallowing his food before he talked. And then Eagle cut in, "Hey! Where'd you get that sandwich?" He looked suspiciously at Cheetah and Wolf, like they would give Alex something other than mush.

"Wolf, that's the second time you've asked me that question. Better be careful, or else _some_ people might think you actually _care_ about me and my well-being. Anyway, I was just making myself some food in the kitchen because you guys had eaten the last of the food and I didn't want to starve. And Eagle, as you can already guess, I made this sandwich with the help of the cooks. I kinda like kitchen workshop. Very liberating."

Cheetah frowned and looked at Eagle. "Is that chicken?"

Eagle narrowed his eyes. "I think that is. Cub, is that _chicken_ in your sandwich?"

Eyes on Snake, Alex didn't seem to see the look shared between the two. "Yup. Chicken, lettuce, tomato, cheese, carrot and mayonnaise. Gary said I did a 'not half bad job'." he shrugged nonchalantly. "I think I did fantastic."

Contrary to their belief, as Eagle and Cheetah both reached for the food in his hand, Alex _had _seen the shared look – and he knew what it had meant.

Casually stepping back, Alex somehow managed to trip them and have both Eagle and Cheetah lying face first in the mud. "Rule one hundred and twenty-two of _What to Do and What Not to Do Around Cub_: Don't touch Cub's food when he's hungry. Dire consequences shall be doled out to any and all perpetrators."

"_Thirteen twelve! Snake, you can still do better than that!_" the sergeant's voice boomed right into Alex's ear, and he winced.

Eagle and Cheetah had finally gotten off the ground and were now muttering under their breath as they tried to scrape the clumps of clinging mud off; all while glaring at the one responsible – who was currently looking quite satisfied and innocent at the same time.

Slightly panting, Snake jogged back over to them. "Hey, guys."

Alex gobbled up the rest of his sandwich – at which his teammate looked a bit confused about – and smiled. "Job well done, Snake." He looked at his unit. "So, who's next?"

A devious look in his eye, Eagle seemed to brighten up considerably. "_You!_" he shouted.

Cheetah chuckled menacingly and gave a smug smile. "I hope you die on this course."

Politely clearing his throat as he strolled over to the drill sergeant, who was wearing a scowl on his face, Alex clasped a hand on his shoulder. "I think the sergeant here will agree with me not doing the course right about now."

The sergeant's head turned to glower at him, but Alex just shrugged. "Unless you want me throwing up all over the place after I'm done... I'd suggest you all get on with it."

Total freaking lie. But there was no harm in it.

And so, as it went, Cheetah got twelve minutes fifty-one (nothing less from a guy called _Cheetah_), Wolf had thirteen fifteen and Eagle finished with a score of thirteen twenty-five.

"Your turn, Cub!" acclaimed Eagle as he hopped on back to the group. Kind of like a bunny, in Alex's opinion.

"Because you have your next fucking class in less than five minutes, gentlemen," the sergeant growled. "You better move your prissy asses instead of fawning over Cub like he's a celebrity."

Looking dumbfounded, K Unit just stood there, which only served to make him angrier. "_Are you deaf? Move it! _Not you though, Cub."_  
_

As Cheetah trudged on by, Alex heard him mutter, "And I really wanted to see him break a fucking leg."

Grinning widely at their disappointment, his mood was quickly deflated by one irritated drill sergeant.

"Since you're new here, I need you to do the obstacle course so I can assess you. Go." he snapped. He didn't tolerate any kind of tardiness, especially from K Unit – one of their best units in the SAS, they were still a pain in the arse, like that Eagle guy.

As K Unit's new addition moved to the course, drill sergeant Ashby wasn't quite sure if it was just a trick of his imagination, but he could've sworn he'd heard the kid murmur,

"I'm not new."

* * *

**Author's note: Guys. Wrote all this on a whim. I don't even know what I'm writing anymore, but you've all been so patiently waiting. And _I'm _even impatient for the next chapter. Asdfghjkl;' Shoot me now if you don't like it. 'Cause _I_ don't like it. Idek.**

**Talk to me. Ask me something you don't get. Whatever. I'm floundering like a fish out of water. ARGHH.**


	3. Chapter 3

"Jesus fucking Christ..."

"Ashby?"

James Ashby didn't have to twist his head over to know the voice belonged to his long-time friend, Lieutenant Mills. He grunted in acknowledgement.

Wondering what was so damn fascinating, Mills followed his line of sight.

Even though he did have to admit that what the soldier was doing was pretty impressive, it was definitely not something to cuss over. "What's so great about _that_ guy, Ashby?"

James didn't answer, only stood there with his legs braced and arms crossed; observing the lithe form flying through the obstacle course with the ease of someone who had done it before.

Sighing at the typical behaviour, Mills settled down on his heels to watch and wait.

* * *

Over the years, Alex had gotten stronger, faster – better. And even though he was still pretty rusty, he had little to no problem in overcoming and completing the course. In fact, if anyone had asked, he'd have said it was quite a bit easier than what he had expected.

Barely out of breath and – no matter how much he had tried to avoid it – covered in mud splatters, he lightly jogged his way back to the drill sergeant. As the refreshing air bit into his face, Alex couldn't help but inhale deeply. His body had slowly cooled down by the time he reached them. A stockily built, middle-aged man was wearily standing beside the sergeant. A slight hint of curiosity lit his eyes.

Alex raised an eyebrow, the drill sergeant looked positively disconcerted. He seemed to snap out of it quickly enough though.

"Your time is thirteen minutes and nine seconds. This is Lieutenant Mills." he frowned and went quiet after that.

Inclining his head, Alex said a simple, respective; "Sir."

"Soldier," he replied.

"Call me Cub."

"Cub?"

"That _is_ my name, sir."

He nodded thoughtfully. "So, how long have you been with the SAS, Cub?"

No noticeable shield came up, but the Alex stared hard at him for a moment. "... For quite a while now." he answered slowly.

The interest flared in Lieutenant Mills' blue eyes. "Oh, really? Well, taking in the fact that I've been overseeing the new recruits for a year or two now, I don't believe I've had the pleasure of seeing you around here." Mills studied him. "How old did you say you were?"

"I didn't," Alex responded coolly. "But if you wanted to know, all you had to do was ask."

His smile smug, Mills shot out the question as soon as Alex had offered. "How old are you, Cub?"

He shrugged. "Is age just a number?"

"What?"

"I could be an old war-veteran in terms of experience, but in reality, be only nineteen."

"Stop stalling, Cub, how old are you?"

"I believe I just told you, sir."

Mills almost gaped. "_Nineteen?_"

"Unless there's something wrong with your hearing, yes."

"Don't fuck with me, soldier." he growled. "It's not possible to get into the SAS at that age."

Alex blinked. "You'd think nineteen year old's wouldn't be allowed to be assassins-in-training at that age either, but look at Yassen Gregorovich."

It took a moment for the name to click, and then – "_What?_" from both of the older men.

"You really should get your ears checked at the infirmary, you know."

His patience ran thin, and Mills had his glare turned on – the kind that scared recruits shitless. Not that it had any sort of effect on Cub. "Don't be a smart Alec, boy. Now tell us your real age, and how the _fuck_ you know of Gregorovich. _Now._ Did you know of this, Ashby?" he demanded.

"Had absolutely no clue. Tell us, Cub."

"... Who _hasn't_ heard of Gregorovich? The man was once one of the world's greatest assassins. He worked with a huge terrorist organisation. He died some years ago, though..." he trailed off.

"I'm going to ask one last time, and you better answer me truthfully, or so God help us, I'll have you binned. How. Old. Are. You?"

Alex stood a little taller. "There are three things you should know about me, sir." he said icily. "One; that I rarely lie if I can avoid it, two; that I am here at Brecon Beacons at the request of many people, including _your_ commanding officers, Lieutenant Mills. The SAS and I both have our reasons for me staying here, and I can assure you, no matter what you report or how many strings you pull – you cannot bin me. And... three – I don't take to threats very well."

Mills looked momentarily thrown by his tone of voice, but Ashby recovered enough to state, "I need confirmation. Mills, Cub, come with me."

"I have classes to attend, _sir_."

"And they can fucking wait, Cub. Let's go."

* * *

"Enter!"

Alex walked in first, looking and feeling as indifferent as ever.

He placed his pen down on his desk. "Cub? Jones doesn't want –"

A frowning Ashby and gravely confused but stubborn Mills came stomping in and Sergeant Sanders leaned back in understanding. "Ah... I see." he nodded to Alex. "What'd you tell them?"

"They flipped out over the fact that I said Yassen Gregorovich's name."

Sanders frowned in disapproval at the two men. "Don't tell me you two got worried because Cub here knows Gregorovich... He's been dead for the past five years now, so I see no point in –"

"With all due respect, sir," Ashby cut in. "But you just said, that Cub here, _knows_ Gregorovich? We were only assuming that Cub knew _of_ him."

"How in the holy hell does a guy like you know him?" Mills had taken a guarded stance. "And he's been telling us that he's nineteen, which can't be true, because –"

"With all due respect, _men_, the _both_ of you _don't_ know Cub. So why don't we let him explain first, yes?" he nodded to Alex again.

"I ran into Yassen from time to time – before he died – that's enough to claim that I know him, I'll assume? And I really am nineteen; my friends know it, Sanders knows it, and, more importantly, _I_ know it."

"But the youngest you can be to get into the SAS is –"

"_I_'m well _aware_ of the rules and regulations, Lieutenant Mills." Sanders said with a pointed stare. Mills suddenly looked uncomfortable, and Alex was reminded of how young these two men still were. Had to be around their early-thirties at the oldest. "But let Cub talk."

"I'm going to go out on a limb here, but you must be thinking I'm still lying about my age. Yes, I know I would've only been around fourteen when Yassen and I bumped heads. And yes, I know that the minimum age to get into the SAS is around twenty-two, but see... I'm kinda the exception to every rule there is." he sheepishly smiled and ducked his head.

"_The exception to every rule?_" Mills turned incredulous eyes to Sanders. "Can you believe what this kids saying about himself? Talk about arrogant." he scoffed.

"Sir, all I came to do was confirm that Cub was saying the truth. I can't, in good conscience, ignore something like this. Especially with his age..." Ashby hedged in. "So if you wouldn't mind, do you have any kind of papers or files to certify him?"

Sanders cleared his throat, and pulled out a very interesting looking manila folder from below his desk. "Gentlemen," he began as he opened the file. "You have to understand something... The SAS actually _volunteered_ to take him in." As he flipped through the papers and pulled out the one he was looking for, Ashby and Mills both looked like the fire they had walked into the room with, had been most definitely doused. "So, here." The paper was pushed forward for them to see.

Alex took a kind of tired pleasure seeing them frown as they read the information. Of course, being the one agent who was able to manage and alter his file was a perk in situations like these.

"Ashby. Mills," Sanders retrieved the paper from the discombobulated men and sighed. "Cub is a very... highly classified person; someone who, in normal circumstances, you would never get the honour of meeting. And when I say honour, I mean _honour_." He smiled something menacing. "I trust you both understand that Cub isn't someone you should question, so, no more questions, eh? Dismissed."

As soon as they got out the door, Sergeant Sanders sighed again and almost – _almost_ – slumped down in his chair. "Cub," he almost bemoaned. "If this is what happens before you even _start_ your second lesson of the day, why don't you just kill us all now?"

Sanders was really the only person in the entire camp who knew his name, and, like Mrs Jones, he was the one of the only people Alex could just say whatever to. "And save you the misery? I don't think so, sir."

"I'm only forty-six, but I swear, I can feel you making my hair go grey faster than it already is." he waved a hand to the door. "Now scat, kid, I've got paperwork to do. Damn academies want their kids to go on an extended excursion here for a '_different experience_'." he snorted. "'Different experience' my arse; those prissy, dickless boys have overblown egotistical problems and the military schools are itching to get them off their hands and shown a lesson. And so they thought, 'who better than the SAS'? We have got a reputation for being intolerable, you know, but no way are we taking _them_ in." Sanders eyes pinned Alex. "_One_ teenager was enough, we don't need fifty more in a camp full of men who are working their legs off to become proper soldiers. Not if I can help it."

"So... are you trying to talk yourself into it, or just reinforcing your arguments to do it?" Brown eyes gleamed maliciously as an idea lit inside his head. "Let me help you make a decision, Sanders... Don't you reckon bullying these little nobodies will be fun? You can shove some steel down their throats, maybe give them a broken bone or two along the way. Work them over until they know the true pain a soldier experiences just through _training_; and teach them some respect, instead of having them all high and mighty."

"What are you getting at, Cub?" he asked warily.

"You didn't get to this position in the SAS by being stupid, so I know you know what I mean."

Sanders shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "Do I?"

"I don't know about you or the rest of the SAS – well, actually, I do, and I know none of you would like it, but... don't you think it'd liven up Beacons a bit more? Particularly if you warn the men beforehand; let them prepare themselves and have a little fun with the boys."

"You forget that you'd be classified as a 'boy', too, seeing as how you're not much older than them – if not the same age."

Alex sent a wry smile his way. "The soldiers won't bother me."

"How do you know that they won't?"

"I'll make sure of it."

The Sergeant shook his head in skepticism. "This is a bad idea anyway. The men have enough pressure to perform as it is, we don't need all the distraction."

"Fine." Alex conceded defeat and sighed. "But I still think it'd be funny to mess with their heads. 'Their' being the academy boys."

"Get back to your classes, Cub. If the instructor wants to know where you've been, tell him it was me who kept him waiting. I am _not_ in the mood right now, so tell him to not bother me unless he wants to be shot on sight."

Alex left the room considerably more amused than when he had entered it.

* * *

_To go in and risk the unnecessary wrath of the instructor, or to stay outside and wait until the next class..._

It was a no-brainer, but Alex somehow found himself inside the doorway, in clear sight of everyone as heads swiveled and the obvious lecturer glared. "I'm in the middle of a lesson – you are?" he asked curtly.

"Cub, sir. Sorry for being la –"

"No excuses! You've practically missed the whole lesson. Go find a seat, and stay behind when the lesson is over. Soldiers who are late won't make it in the real world. Timing is everything."

Not unreasonable comments, Alex decided as he strode to the only empty seat at the front of the room.

"Okay, can anyone remember what this..."

The ten minutes flew by easily, and before he even knew it, the men were filing out of the door and off to their next classes.

"Cub, is it?"

If Alex had had ears, they would have perked right on up at the sound of his name. "Yes, sir."

"Come here."

He approached the man. "If you wanted to know why I was late, it was because of –"

"We don't tolerate lateness among the newer recruits – so by the time they're older, being on time, or even earlier, is ingrained into their habits. I know SAS is still new to you, but that doesn't mean you get to have liberties that the other soldiers don't."

"But sir, I'm –"

"No excuses, Cub," he reprimanded. "I'll let you off this time, but make sure it doesn't happen again, especially being as late as you were today. Now go, before you're late _again_."

Without another word, Alex stormed out of there; but then he stopped a couple paces away from the door. Hands on his hips and feeling his eye twitch almost manically, he just had to say it; "_Goddamn it,_ _I'__m not new!__"_

_..._

"...Cub?"

Alex sniffed delicately, taking in the fact that solider's who had been walking by were now giving him a wide berth and eyeballing him. "What do you want, Cheetah?"

Said man was staring at him with a strange expression on his face. "What do you mean, 'what do you want'? What the hell was _that_?"

"What was what?"

"You were just standing there, and then, out of nowhere, you yelled, 'Goddamn it, I'm not new!'"

"No, I didn't."

Cheetah frowned in confusion and just stared at Alex for a prolonged second or two. "...Yes, you did!" he finally spluttered out.

"I'm starting to think you guys aren't taking my advice seriously enough. Maybe _you_ should skip the next few classes and go to the infirmary to check on your ears, yeah?"

"_I_ heard you, the _soldiers _around here heard you – bloody all of _Wales _heard you!"

"I'm just worried about you, s'all. Anyway, I'm heading off now; don't want to be late for my class again. See you later!" Alex said quite cheerily. Just as he was about to go, he paused and bit his lip in hesitation.

"What is it now?" Cheetah growled out.

"Do I need to inform Sergeant Sanders of your hearing problems...? Or are you going to –" Laughing as he dodged the lunge the soldier made at him, Alex decided not to further aggravate the poor man; so he ran.

A roar came from behind him. "_I _DON'T_ NEED TO GO TO THE INFIRMARY, BECAUSE I _DON'T_ HAVE ANY _FUCKING_ HEARING PROBLEMS!_"

"At least _I_ heard you loud and clear!" Alex shouted over his shoulder.

"_CUB!_"_  
_

* * *

**Author's Note: Sorry it took so long to update. School's started again, and I'm drowning in homework and procrastination.**

**What do you guys want more of? Or what would you like to be included? And, kinda more important to me, what do you guys think of this one?**

**P.S. Thanks for all the follows, favourites and reviews. Much appreciated.**

**P.P.S. But I still don't know about this chapter. I'm cringing in anticipation of your reviews. |:**


	4. Chapter 4

It was amazing, Alex mused as he strolled toward the large lake, how easily age could make a difference.

Oh, of course he had been given a confused glance here and there, but he _did_ look a bit younger than even the newest recruits. And as the day had progressed, the few classes he experienced so far, were mostly filled with the older men – ones like K Unit, who had more than a couple years of SAS under their belt instead of just one. A lot of them were more mature now.

Maybe it was because they weren't going through the stresses of selection anymore. Or they had all just been going through a 'hating teenagers' phase.

Because they certainly weren't acting condescending and malicious anymore. Well, at least not as much as back then.

"Alright, soldiers, today, we're going to try something a little different."

Feeling an intense stare drilling through his head, Alex looked up to notice an unhappy Cheetah. A smile slowly crept up onto him until he was grinning from ear to ear, teeth and all. "Did you go to you-know-where like I told you to?"

Cheetah just turned away.

"You're giving me the cold shoulder? Ouch, I was only trying to look out for you." Alex pouted. "That hurts, you know."

"You there, what's your name?"

He stood there for a minute, before he realised the question was aimed at him. "Who, me?"

"Yes, you, you idiot, who else is new in this class besides you?"

"Er, no one?"

The instructor let out an aggravated sigh. "That was a rhetorical question."

"Oh."

"..."

MI6's superspy examined the crystalline lake with an almost child-like wonder; one of the men coughed and Snake was trying to subtly warn his teammate – to no avail.

"_Soldier!_" the instructor barked. "_What is your name?_"

Alex flinched at the sudden noise, eyes jerking over to the man in uniform. "Uh, Cub, sir."

"Cub, you say?" A kindle of satisfaction lit in the man's black eyes.

"Ah, yes, sir."

"...Talk again while I'm talking, and I'll hang you by your fucking balls; now all of you drop _and give me fifty!_"

Daggers were sent at him with glares and Alex sighed mentally – fifty push-ups weren't that bad if you were fit, and it was no lie that all of the men in SAS were fit. Well, _duh_, they had to be.

So why the daggers?

Alex, along with the other men, dusted off the dirt on his palms and the instructor continued from where he left off.

"As I was saying, today's going to be a little different. You're going to swim with your clothes _on_."

No one peeped a sound of complaint or of reluctance – they wouldn't dare in front of _this_ man. The tiniest step out of line, and he would zone in on you like a heat seeking missile. Although everyone seemed to instinctively know that when he got you, it would be a _lot_ more painful than that.

"This little experiment stems from logic; purely and simply, men. In the real world, would you all have time to strip and get all your clothes off? I don't think so."

Alex nodded his head thoughtfully, and inwardly, was just shrugging his shoulders. The troubles of briefly showing his body before and after the swim had faintly nudged at his mind, but it wasn't something he truly worried about.

Despite the doubts of him being here, the men had nevertheless accepted him; albeit subconsciously.

"You can take your weapons, or any stuff of moderate value, off before you start." Shoes, socks, knives etc. etc. were off.

He'd already thought it through and through – the concept of scars shouldn't alarm too many people.

To be even marginally accepted into the SAS, you needed something like several years of prior experience in the army; any, and most scars Alex had, could be accounted for within that time frame.

But Alex discarded those lies. Now that they were swimming with their clothes on, there were no need for lies about his body. Not that they _would_ be lies, just avoiding certain truths.

"Well?" the instructor said impatiently. "What the hell are you ratbags waiting for? Enemy fire? A civilian to start drowning? _Move it!__"_

They didn't have to be told twice and all of them ran to the water's edge. Alex jumped in without another thought.

_Cold... _ he wanted to gasp, but he was already starting strokes, trying to get to the checkpoint as fast as possible. To push himself.

At first, it felt like the water was grasping at him, with its cold, watery fingers; gently pulling and tugging at his clothes. Familiar enough, the feel of his clothes softly weighing him down reminded him of all those situations.

The Man-o'-War at Cornwall. The Great White under Casa de Oro. The attempted drowning in the water room by Nile in Venice. Being trapped in the _Mary Belle._ Kayaking and being shot at through the white waters after escaping the organ dealers. The car crash into the loch with Sabina and her dad. Hanging over a crocodile-infested river. Blowing up the dam in Kenya; and being water-boarded by the CIA in Cairo –

He'd never told anyone, but –

Water.

Alex stopped moving his limbs, and for a moment of blind panic, he thought he was back in Guyana, fighting for his life in the river against the enemy, as they came closer and closer to the famous Kaieteur Falls.

Or was he in the wet rainforests of Borneo, where the men were closing in on _him_; grabbing hold of his body and neck, pushing his head into the river and –

But then he blinked and everything was gone, and he was good ol' Alex Rider again, and he was still afloat, and he was still _alive_. Then somebody splashed him as they swam by and the spell disappeared.

The trigger had been a minor setback; he'd never had something that so much as resembled PTSD.

Well, nothing that resembled PTSD that he couldn't handle on his own.

"Cub! Why are you _stopping?_ _Start swimming again before I eat your scrawny ass for dinner!_"

That evoked a smile. _Scrawny...? __I've never associated myself with _that_ word before..._

In the six seconds that he had stopped, Snake and a few other men had passed him. Now, Alex felt something coming up from behind him, and turned around. Only to have a small, cold wave to engulf him as the rest swam on.

"Come on, Cub!" laughed Eagle as he lingered around him for a second, before moving on.

Quietly closing the door to those kind of thoughts, Alex tried to put only one thing into his mind, and that was to keep on swimming. But it wasn't really working.

And no, this didn't mean he would just leave them there, to stew and come over to a boiling point, where he could and probably _would_ have a mental breakdown over it. He wasn't stupid, but nor was he going to make a big deal of it; he hated therapy with the passion of a vegan fighting for animal rights. Actually, the few that had been assigned to him by MI6 had often been the one to break before he ever came close. You see, Alex had absolutely no problem telling someone about his escapades, as long as they were somewhat filled in on who he was and what he did. And that they had some kind of connection to MI6.

He breezed over most of the gruesome details, to spare them the horrors, but they always assumed he was blocking out the psychological and physical pain of it for _his _benefit.

The first woman had told him to stop lying and _demanded_ he tell the truth, instead of creating tall, heroic tales about himself after two appointments. She was of an impatient kind, and when he insisted that he _was _telling the truth, she had hauled him all the way to Mrs Jones' office, saying it seemed that the subject was refusing to cooperate.

Alex had watched as the blood had slowly, but surely, slipped away from her face as Jones had calmly responded with a dismissive flick of her hand, stating that anything, and most likely everything, he said was 'just about right'.

After a few more sessions, _she_ couldn't take it anymore and left.

The second one, after two sessions, had reacted with unprecedented emotion, flying into a rage, storming up to the Director's office and having a go at Jones for using him.

Alex had detained her and calmed her down. Security (two MI6 agents) came and took her away; Alex hadn't seen her since.

He made it to the checkpoint in the lake, and didn't stop for a short rest like the others liked to do, but just turned around and started to swim the rest of the way back. Alex had eaten the distance between him and the other soldiers quite easily, what with him being a lighter weight – presumably – and swimming all the time anyway.

Now, the third was _almost_ a success; although none of the sessions had actually helped Alex; because he didn't _need_ help.

Deceptively calm for all of their discussions, after seven weeks – she lasted much longer than the others, maybe that's why Alex hadn't seen it sooner – Ben Daniels had discovered her plot to expose MI6 as the horrible manipulators they were.

The psychiatrist (they tested different areas of qualified people on Alex) had accumulated enough information and evidence to point the finger at MI6 on the basis of blackmail, child slavery and various other 'breakings of the law'.

The only thing she hadn't gotten around her pretty little head though, was that MI6 _was_ the law – as far as _she_ was concerned, anyway.

Alex knew she was only trying to help him, but exposing him to the world as the schoolboy victim forcibly turned spy wasn't the way to do it. He didn't want his face plastered everywhere he went either. Kinda made his job harder, you know?

And last, but not least, was the single male psychologist they had tried. This man was a little different. After the ten assigned weeks with Alex, he had left a form of resignation and regrets to Mrs Jones. He didn't want to work for the people his patient described – even though Alex had told him that his views had changed over the years, and that he under_stood _why Jones and Blunt had done what they had done.

They had still been assholes and jackasses back then, but Blunt was now gone, and Jones and him had come to an agreement of sorts.

But Matthew didn't want to listen anymore. Unlike the previous person, he knew he had no power and could do nothing to truly help the young spy; so he respected Alex's wishes to not try to intervene – and quit MI6 instead. He told Alex he was going to pack up his stuff and move somewhere to re-evaluate his life and his very disconcerting government.

If Alex said he had learnt one thing from his career in MI6 though, it was that you didn't just freely 'quit' MI6 and go on some self-discovery journey with monks or something. Once they had you, they'd never let you go.

Finishing the swim, he looked up to see a drenched Snake grinning and holding out a hand to help Alex up. He grabbed it and hauled himself up; Alex felt ten times heavier with his clothes on.

And sometimes, when no one else was around, he found himself wondering what they _had_ done with Matthew...

Alex shook his hair out of his eyes just like he shook the thoughts out of his head. He would examine them more closely later.

He'd dissect his memories; poke and probe until he knew exactly _why_ he had thought of them in the first place. He didn't like self-revelations during particularly hard, mentally-harming missions. He couldn't afford for a lot of distractions.

All in all, if he kept sifting through his mind, trying to find all the weaknesses, and the anger, and the hidden frustration... it was kinda like he was being his _own_ therapist.

He snorted and muttered, "Own therapist..." as he shrugged off his soaking jacket/jumper/army shit, to leave only his undershirt on. Fortunately, it only bared his arms, which only held a few usually unnoticeable scars.

Unfortunately, these usually unnoticeable scares were now noticeable, due to he fact that his skin had been affected by swimming in cold water. One or two thin, white and shiny scars would have been easily shrugged off; but Alex had amassed... well, more than he _could_ shrug off.

Hopefully, none of his unit would notice.

"Hey, Cub, what's that?"

_Jinxed myself_.

Alex gritted his teeth and plastered on a smile before turning around. He struggled not to strangle Eagle.

"What's what, Eagle?"

He frowned with what seemed to be concern.

Wow, he was serious about this?

"I saw something on your arm. It was shiny and – well, now that I think about it, it was like _multiple_ shiny things that –"

Cheetah, who had noticed Eagle's frown, came over to investigate, swinging a wet arm around his teammate's shoulders. "Hey, fellas, care to share what y'all being so secretive about?"

"We weren't being secretive." Alex said nonchalantly. "And by the way, whatever accent you were trying to pull, was horrible. Never do that again."

Offended, he gasped. "Excuse me, I was trying for an American southerner." Annnnnnd it was like Cheetah had suddenly remembered he shouldn't even be liking him, and a scowl settled on his features. "I bet _you_ can't do better, you little twat."

Clearing his throat, Alex then smiled widely. "Well, kindly excuse me, _sir,_ I didn't realise I'd offended you in any type of way." He bent at the waist to sweep a bow, and then raised his head with a glint in his eye. "Please accept my sin_cere _apologies."

Eyes widened, and Eagle started laughing while Cheetah fumed at being bested. "Well, I'll be damned, Chee, if that ain't more southern than the southerners over in America." As his arms finally released his trembling rib cage from its hold, he looked over to Alex curiously.

"Where'd you learn to talk like _that_, Cub?"

Alex rolled his eyes, but otherwise stayed in character. "It's something called _exaggeration_, and it ain't like I never been over to America before – idjit."

And it started all over again at the word _idjit_; Eagle was left gasping for air, and Alex just shrugged and wandered off from the loudly embarrassing man. Satisfaction poured through him at having dodged the unnecessary questions about his scars.

A hand landed on his shoulder, and it took less than a second for Alex to deduce that there was no way an enemy could've gotten through his defences and it was most likely someone he knew to have grabbed him so familiarly. But he still had to mentally command himself to not lash out at the unwanted touch.

"Cub," said a once-more solemn Eagle. "I think I know what I saw." His eyes bored into Alex's own chocolate ones. "Please tell me it's not what I think it is."

"Okay," Alex capitulated. "It's not."

The man sighed in relief. "Okay, that's good because I don't –" he did a double take of realisation, which then morphed into anger. "You only said that to appease me."

Seeing no reason to lie, he shrugged again. "Yeah."

Eagle grabbed for his arm; and Alex let him. What the man saw had fear flashing through his eyes. "Cub..." he swallowed. "Please don't lie to me this time."

Staring at a tree twenty feet away, the young spy saw as the wind brushed against it, rustling its leaves and blowing the dead ones away. It was an old tree, with gnarled branches and a trunk with so many wrinkles he wouldn't have been surprised if the tree had been here long before the training base had been built. All of a sudden, a stray ray of sunlight pierced through the bleak clouds, bathing the lake behind the tree for an iridescent shimmer.

It was quite pretty, yet saddening at the same time – and Alex had no clue why.

The sound of approaching footsteps drew near, and he knew it was going to bring a whole truckload of problems.

A snicker was heard. "Why are you guys holding hands?"

Snake. God damn, why the unit medic this time?

Eagle caught Alex's eye again. "We're a unit, no matter how weak the bonds are; we're a unit. It's only been a day, granted, but how long can you hide these... scars?" he choked out. "You're going to have to deal with it sooner or later, it just turned out to be sooner than you imagined. It'll be alright, Cub."

He frowned. What was the man going on about? "Of course it's going to be okay, why wouldn't –"

Snake had finally come close enough to see why Eagle's hand was attached to Alex's wrist; and he swore. He stared at the scars for a tense second, and then stormed off to swear again, even louder, and with a more pronounced Scottish brogue.

He came back a moment later. "What the hell is this?" he demanded, slashing a hand toward Alex's arms. For some absolutely weird reason, the medic had fear flaring faintly in his eyes and it made Alex wonder...

"What do you think?" he raised an eyebrow, annoyed.

"They're scars!" Snake blazed.

Alex leaned back slightly, thoroughly irritated by the exclamations and overreactions, and scoffed. "No shit, Sherlock, what else would they be?"

"'ey, what's all the ruckus about, guys?"

Rolling his head to one side to look at Cheetah in disbelief, Alex just wanted to leave. Eagle still shackled his wrists, though, and he'd have to break a few bones before they'd let him go, apparently.

"Well, Cheetah, the _ruckus_ is all about the fact that I've got a few scars." He raised his shoulders to say it was no big deal, and then said as much. "So what? A bunch of scars shouldn't cause this kinda reaction, you know. Can I leave now –"

"Scars?"

Still fuming, Snake crossed his arms and planted his feet. "Yeah, Chee, scars. On his arms. Why don't you take a look for yourself." It was an order.

Cheetah crept on over, wearing an abashed look; he was curious as to what scars they were going on about.

He stiffened the moment he saw them and now knew why Snake was so angry and why Eagle was so concerned. None of them took any of this shit lightly. "What the fuck?" he whispered in shock.

"Guys, what the hell are you doing just standing around? We need to get going before Landor gets it up in our asses." When Wolf saw that no one was following him, he came back, but before he said anything, he saw their expressions and he had second thoughts about yelling at them. "What's up?" he said irritably.

Jaw clenching and eyes not even touching Alex, Snake just pointed at their newest (or would it be oldest?) member. Wolf sighed. "What is it now that you've caused us, Cu –" He froze at the sight of the scars.

But unlike everyone else, his lip curled in derision. "And that's it, huh?" he said with disgust. "You all pity the rich boy who's _obviously _too _weak_. Parents neglect you or something?" he turned his back, but not before saying one last thing, "He's probably cutting for attention."

And the revelation hit Alex like an eighteen-wheeler. He couldn't help it – he just started laughing uncontrollably.

Until he doubled over because his stomach hurt from laughing so hard, until tears gathered in his eyes and he couldn't see, until his cheeks ached from smiling, and until his lungs couldn't get enough air.

"Oh my, God," he wheezed out when he could finally form coherent words.

"Cub –" Cheetah started.

Alex waved him off and tried to calm himself down enough to talk; he could hear his heartbeat in his ears. "You guys," he began. And then he changed his mind. "Wait, I have a few other things to say." He lost the laughter and looked at Wolf. "First off, how the hell is cutting weak? Someone who has all this horrible weight on their shoulders, these insecurities and fears... You're in a dark place and everyone has to have an outlet – a release – and some people choose to self-harm. It's no different from people choosing to lose themselves in sex, or to drink alcohol until they drop – even drug use is an escape. In most cases, it shows just how strong a person can be, because when I really think about it, how do you _not_ take your life under all that pressure? To resist the urge to just be _done_ with it all. If I had a say in anything, I'd be the one calling _you_ weak, Wolf." The man in question was glowering and opened his mouth to say something, but Alex cut him to the chase. "And, being the decent person that I am, I kept it to myself. And yeah, I know I just said it, but who really gives a fuck about what I said? Because I _don't_."

"You guys can stay and listen to this crap," Wolf growled. "I'm going to my next lesson." And he walked off.

"Typical," Alex muttered as he watched the retreating figure of his unit leader. He pushed his attention back to the remaining three stunned men of his team. "Now, back to the topic at hand." he said.

"_What the hell was that?_" Cheetah bursted out with.

"That was me handing Wolf his ass." He stopped, thoughtful, for a moment.

"Um, no, that was you pissing off the one man in Brecons Beacons that you _don't_ want to piss off."

"You haven't seen _me_ pissed off."

"Oh, _yeah_, 'cause we'd all be _so_ scared of witty, bitty _Cub_." he said sweetly.

"You will be."

"_Right. _Sure."

Alex sighed, the look on Cheetah's face would be priceless when he found out what happened to those who got on _his_ bad side. "Now, going on record, I _don't_ cut."

Snake spoke up this time. "And I _totally_ believe you."

"Such sarcasm, at such a young age," Alex wiped an imaginary tear away. "Oh, how it breaks my heart."

"If you don't cut, then where did those scars from?" This was the first time Eagle had spoken since Snake had come along. He had been quite, abnormally subdued.

"You're going to have to be more specific than that, darling."

"What do you mean?" asked Snake.

Alex gave an over-exaggerated sigh. "Ugh, do I have to spell out everything for you guys?"

Cheetah, who had been listening to the conversation in silence, stepped closer toward Alex, and then pointed at one of the more noteworthy scars. "Where did this one come from?"

"Oh, you know..."

"No, I actually don't,"' he said flatly.

Movement in the same tree he had been studying before captured his gaze; a bird was now fluttering around in there somewhere.

"Cub." Cheetah prompted.

"What?"

"You were saying...?" he looked a bit dubious now.

"Ah, yes," Alex looked at the scar they were asking about, sifting through some memories before he found the right one. "I was in the streets – well, more like alleys – of Brookland, New York City. Then someone tried to knife me." Naturally, none of them knew that that 'someone' was actually an assassin.

Like they said; ignorance was bliss.

"So, what happened when the guy tried to knife you?" Eagle wanted to know.

Sensing there was more to the story than Alex let on, Snake gestured with his hand for Alex to keep going.

"Hey," he shrugged (he seemed to do a lot of shrugging lately). "If you guys insist." Alex stared at the trunk of the tree again and, lost to the memory, smiled viciously enough to trip up the bells in their heads. "He missed. And, of course, he'll never have use of his arms again."

"... This scar?" Eagle gestured to a long, jagged looking one, that stretched from his wrist to his elbow.

"It's been a couple years, so it doesn't look so bad now... there was this one psycho who decided to slice my arm open." To torture some information out of him.

They all visibly winced.

"You think that's already painful? Imagine having your arm sliced open with a dull and tiny scalpel. She was hot, but she was crazy." Alex paused in abrupt consideration. "She was _hot – _but she was _crazy_. But she was so freaking _hot_..."

"Why did she cut open your arm?" Cheetah inquired. The kid seemed a bit loopy himself; who had inner debates about past psychos on whether their hotness overcame their craziness?

Alex turned blunt eyes to him and it cast an inner chill, reminding them all that they were still relatively wet from their swim. "Can't you guys imagine why for yourselves? Should be pretty easy... Okay, two more, and then we gotta go dry off and get to class ASAP." They were already late.

"Wait," murmured a deep-in-thought Eagle. "What happened to the 'hot but crazy' psycho?"

"Obviously, she's dead." he said with vehemence. "Why the hell would she be alive after the shit she tried to pull on me?" He hadn't really meant to kill her _– _she'd inadvertently died when he set the bomb off _– _but there had been no love lost between them.

"We see your point."

"It _was_ a waste of eye candy, though. Not many who were as pretty as her... Not saying that all girls aren't pretty, but man, was she _hot_..."

"What about that one?" asked Eagle. This scar was thin, and tiny, but he had noticed it traveled up Alex's arm, to under his shirt.

"That one was due to a particularly hard and sharp branch which just managed to catch my arm instead of my chest."

Cheetah's mouth drooped in disappointment. "A branch?"

"Yes, a branch. I only got this scar, mainly because the people who threw me off the plane, didn't want to throw me off with a parachute." He smiled. "You should've seen their faces when I came back alive. Not that they saw anything for long."

Cheetah was puzzled and shocked over Cub's words, but internally shook himself and pointed at the lighter, smoother scar on his hand. He had almost missed it. "How'd you get this one?"

"What? Oh, _this _one? I don't know if you guys will believe me though..."

"As long as you tell us the truth, we'll believe you. I studied to be a doctor before I became a soldier, so I should know if your scars are about right." Snake reassured.

"Spiderweb."

At the complete change of thought, they were put off guard. "Wha –?" said Eagle.

"Spiderweb?" Alex said cautiously. "You know, that stuff spider's spin for their homes? Cobweb. The shit they dangle from when they drop from curtains or trees or whatever, the sh –"

"We know what spiderweb is, Cub." interrupted Cheetah. "We just don't get why you're talking about it."

"Oh. Guess I should explain in a little more detail, right?"

"Yeah." agreed Snake.

"A couple years back, I kinda-sorta-accidentally got tangled with these kinda-sorta-scientific-yet-mad people. I was at their... what would you call it... well, I was in their domain, by any chance, and they caught on pretty fast. So, to get away, I had to run through this room, which was basically like a greenhouse, only worse, because the plants and stuff they had in there had pretty much all been genetically modified. You guys following so far?"

They all nodded dumbly, all incredulous and disbelieving.

"So, I was running through that place, and, long story short, a string of spiderweb fell onto my hand when I stopped for a bit. And yup, out of everything I had managed to dodge and miss, the _spider_ gets me. The web was kinda like acid. Burnt like acid, too, so I'm pretty sure it _was_ acid. But, yeah, that's how I got this scar."

"Um, anything else you want to add there, Cub?"

"Now that you mention it, Cheetah, I think it was around that time I started disliking spiders."

"You're bullshitting us. Why don't you tell us the truth?"

"You may be a semi-qualified doctor, Snake, but you've only been taught on how to help civilian or army patients, or so I assume." Alex frowned. "Half of my scars you won't be able to process through your head because you don't truly understand the concepts of modern science technology. I'm not being harsh, I'm just saying that you understand bullets and wounds, not acidic spiderwebs and surviving a thousand feet drops." It was probably not that high of a drop, but hey, let them stew in it for a while.

"Are you sure you're not making all of this up in an effort to say you don't cut?" Eagle ventured.

Alex snapped his head back like he had been slapped. "I've let you have the privilege of asking me what no one else would ask. I've let you guys know more about me than most other people in my life right now. Take a rain-check, guys, _who the hell am I?" _He was furious that they'd accuse him lying when all he'd given them were cold facts. How dare they. He smirked in their silence. "That's right, you don't have an answer because you _don't_ know who I am. So, if you don't believe what I say when I say it, then you can all fuck off. I didn't ask you to question why I have my scars, and I sure as hell don't need you to tell me the way I got them is not possible. _I'm_ the one who had to live through it; _I'm_ the one who had to go through all the fucking pain. Did I complain once through any of that? No."

They all looked ashamed. "Cub, we didn't mean for you –" Cheetah seemed almost desperate to say he was sorry, but Alex wouldn't let him have it.

"You can take your apologies and shove them at someone who cares."

He left them for the showers.

* * *

The steam had helped cool his head by the time he got outside again. The other men had finished showering approximately when he'd arrived, so he'd luckily had the place to himself.

Maybe he'd gone over the top with his anger, but it was like Sabina all over again when they hadn't believed him.

It wasn't the same as confessing to be a teenage superspy, but it was pretty close. He was surprised none of them had asked _why _a psycho had cut up his arm, or _why_ he was being chased through an enhanced greenhouse, or even why he'd been _thrown_ off a plane.

A deep inhale had him exhaling, "Fuck this shit." and walking toward Sanders place again.

He entered without permission.

The Sergeant didn't even look up. "Get the fuck out before I kick you out."

Alex cleared his throat. "It's –"

"I'm telling you, if you don't go now, I will rip out your intestines and give it to my Grandmother as a scarf."

He cringed. "That's kinda extreme there, even for me, sir."

The man sighed and threw his pen onto the desk. "How many times do I – Cub?"

"Miss me? Because I sure missed you." Alex blithely smiled.

"Eugh, don't start with that or you'll be meeting the contents of my stomach. What's happened _now?_"

Alex scratched his head. "Well, I've had one too many people misjudging me today. I need a break before I decide to shout out who I am from the rooftops."

"I could put you on mess duty for skipping classes. That should get your minds off some troublesome soldiers." He grinned deviously.

"Punishments for skipping classes don't apply to me."

"You're in my base."

"Yeah, but I'm a spy before I'm a soldier. At least... I'm pretty sure I am."

Sanders stood and stretched, breaking out a groaned; "Oo, I'm getting old. I can almost hear my back cracking with age." Then he sat back down. "So, why are you here?"

Alex bared his arms (he'd only put on pants and another black tee after the shower), the Sergeant blinked twice at the scars. "See these?"

"Somewhat clearly."

"Well, since they don't know that I'm Alex Rider, they think I'm doing self-harm."

"And?"

"I tried dissuading them from the notion by telling them how I got the individual scars."

"Any luck?"

"... I might have gotten angry at them for not believing me. But then again, I would've been the same if I were them. Now that I'm thinking about it, it _did_ sound kind of impossible. It's like whatever's bizarre and unbelievable in the universe happens to me. No one believes me in this camp!"

Sanders settled in his chair. "Grab a seat and come sit at the desk, Cub. I'm going to need details."

Alex planted his glutes on the surprisingly comfortable chair and rested his elbows on the polished oak "So, do you want the long version or the short one?"

"How long's the long one?"

"Depends on what you want to know."

Sighing, the Sergeant tapped his fingers on his thigh. Then he froze as an idea popped into his head. It was risky, because Sanders was beginning to understand that you never knew what reactions to expect with Alex Rider; but it was still worth a try. "So... how about you just tell me everything?"

* * *

**Author's Note: You guys have been so good to me, so here's a little treat. I've only just finished writing this and it's still a little rough around the edges. **

**... Okay, it's REALLY rough around the edges, but I was eager to show you guys a glimpse of some of the things that Alex has gone through since Scorpia Rising. **

**I'm never sure about my work - and this one especially feels like a slippery fish of an idea that I can't quite wholly grasp. Idk. Please review so I can get some feedback that I can work with. I really hope you all like this chapter I've posted. If you don't I'll be crushed, ****but I'll take it off and start the chapter over to create something you _do_ like.**


	5. Chapter 5

In the end, Sergeant Sanders didn't get what he wanted.

But, what he did get, was an endless supply of entertainment in the form of a young man known as Alex Rider.

For almost a week and a half now, they had built up a daily schedule together.

Alex would wake up before K Unit would rouse, maybe have a shower, and then have breakfast in the kitchen with the cooks – away from the other soldiers. He didn't bother going to his classes anymore, not after the small taste he'd had. He just went straight to the Sergeants office, where they would sit in companionable silence, wait until Sanders asked a question about his spy life, and then continue on to have a conversation about it. Alex never volunteered the information.

And Sanders was just fine with that, because MI6's spy answered most questions he asked without even batting an eye.

Luckily, being in the SAS made him realise when the questions he wanted to ask crossed a line – whether it was a personal or governmental one.

He knew where to stop.

Sometimes, when he had to leave on an errand somewhere around the camp, Alex would stay in his office; he didn't like going outside where it was wet, muddy and he'd much prefer to avoid soldier contact. He was in no mood to converse, or even be in the presence of them. He had told Sanders that it was more about how spies generally liked to be in the shadows, and working behind the lines, then trudging along in the dirt and training in the style of hostage release.

Besides, spies didn't care about hostage releases – not unless they were important to the mission (or country) at hand.

Dinner was usually brought into the office by Heath, so that they were able to eat, talk and work at the same time. And yes, Alex helped him with his paperwork, but what could he say? The boy knew paperwork. His brain was quite possibly the best Sanders had seen in a while. He made excellent suggestions to the proposals that the Sergeant had no response to, and he came up with battle (mostly stealth) plans for those who needed help over in the other countries.

Currently, the spy was grabbing a snack to eat from the kitchen – he didn't want to bother Heath with his hunger yet again. The excuse he came up with as a reason to frequently visit that place was that he was still a 'growing boy'. He had snorted at the lame cover.

...

It was actually quite nice to have Alex's company in his usually empty office.

* * *

K Unit hadn't seen Cub all week.

Well, they hadn't seen him _awake_ all week.

Lights were meant to be out by 2230, and whenever they entered their cabin, no matter how early or late, little Cub was either not there yet, or was already asleep. He was gone again by the time they woke up.

They didn't know where he went during the days, or even what he did.

He'd only been around for about a night and one fourth of a day, but somehow, he'd manage to integrate himself within their group.

So, although they'd never admit to it, they were all missing him.

After the We Were Seriously Wrong Incident, as Eagle had dubbed it, they'd all been left feeling vaguely guilty and ashamed. Not to mention the hundreds of questions buzzing to be answered in their heads.

Even Wolf, the man who acted as if he hated Cub, was wondering where he'd gone off to. He'd been speechless when Eagle had bitterly told him exactly how Cub had gotten his scars.

He remembered trying to make amends at the end of Cub's first stay, but the shock of seeing him back at Brecons Beacons had him reverting back to the resentful, vicious man he was during selection. It had been a stumble on his part – a defence mechanism that had him lashing out. He was too stubborn, and too prideful, to change now.

Cheetah missed the bugger who had gone and added some spice into K Unit's life. Interesting things had arisen and he was dying to find out more about Cub. It seemed like he was a walking, living being of surprises. Who'd be able to resist _that_ kind of invitation?

Over the scare of Cub's scars and hearing how he had gotten them, Cheetah now wondered on _why_ he'd gotten them.

Snake, dawdling in his full mind, thought of Cub as a box of medical mysteries to unravel. There was no way he got those scars the way he told them, right?

Then there was Eagle, who was drowning in his own conscience. He felt terrible after having made Cub withdraw from them. He'd been so forthcoming and all Eagle had done was doubt him and broken the so-called fragile bond he'd talked about. Some unit _they_ were.

So when K Unit saw Cub walk out of the kitchen back door chuckling and calling out, "Thanks again, Gary! I'll make sure to tell Heath the next time he comes around!" seemingly happy and fine without them, it was safe to say that they were all pretty angry.

* * *

Alex came to a stop when he was faced with four very irritated-looking men.

He didn't know what to say, so he decided to just go with it and gave them each a nod. "Wolf. Snake. Eagle. Cheetah."

A sullen and awkward silence descended upon them. "... Right," Alex said with another nod and flashed a smile. "I've got to get back. It was nice seeing you all. Cheerio!"

He didn't know what drove him to say 'Cheerio!', but in that moment, he wanted to face-palm himself.

As he tried to slither by them, Snake's hand, like its namesake, snaked out to snare the collar of Alex's shirt. "Not so fast, buddy. We've got some talking to do." And so K Unit dragged its unofficial, yet somewhat official, member back to their cabin, despite all the complaints Alex pulled. Even threatening them with the fact that he had to go back to Sergeant Sanders, and that that very man would punish them all if young Cub couldn't get back to his office.

Snake let go of him when they were inside the cabin. Alex sat down on his bunk; the others stayed standing. "Alright, guys, it's your funeral. Don't say that I didn't warn you."

Wolf crossed his arms, "You could've told me different, you know."

He knew Wolf was referring to him assuming that he was cutting, but Alex just did his trademark eyebrow raise, and refrained from making a comment.

"Cub, look," Snake sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "About your... scars, I'm sorry I – _we_ – didn't believe you. It's just that... what you told us... it's –"

"Snake. I'm going to be frank; you suck at this."

"I'm trying to apologise on K Unit's behalf to you!" he said, exasperated.

"You're not doing a very good job of it."

"Well, you – you're – just – argh!"

Alex concealed a grin, liking that his unit was in the uncomfortable spotlight, even if it was just in front of him; he cleared his throat. "What was that? I didn't quite catch it."

"Listen to me, you little –"

"Okaaaaaaaaay!" Cheetah butted in before Snake could accidentally insult Cub in his frustration to find the right words. "We're just saying we're sorry about assuming that you were lying to us."

"Apology not accepted."

"W...hat?"

"I said, 'Apology not accepted'. Your hearing is _really_ fried."

"I don't care about my hearing – why won't you accept our apology?!"

Alex shrugged. "Don't feel like it."

"_What_?"

"... You okay there, Cheetah? You're looking kind of red."

"That's it!" Cheetah threw his hands up in the air, signalling defeat. "I give up. Somebody else talk before I put him in the infirmary."

"I dare you to try and put me in the infirmary." he smirked. "Go on; _I dare you_."

Eagle swooped in on his teammate before serious damage was let out.

"Eagle, get your overweight ass off of me." Cheetah growled.

But he ignored him and pointedly talked to Alex – who found all of this secretly amusing. "Cub. We're sorry. I'm sorry for making assumptions about you and for not believing you when you told us the real story. Cheetah's sorry for that, too. Snake apologises for the way he acted – but remember what he said. He wanted to be a doctor before he became a soldier; he _does_ care about you and for your welfare, but he's also _practical_. He can't always take what injured patients say as the truth. People lie all the time to cover up embarrassments, secrets... and other stuff, you know? And Wolf is sorry as well, even though he won't say it. He's too stubborn. But he is – sorry, that is – for being an asshole to you." Eagle hunched his shoulders, and was looking at the floor, so he couldn't see all their dumbfounded faces. "All we're trying to say is... Well, we don't want a repeat of what we did to you five years ago. I... guess we just wanted to make a fresher start, yeah?"

When all that met his question was a biting silence, he finally looked up.

Alex was smiling. "You seemed childish, at first. Immature and annoying, yet the fun never stops around you. But out of all of you," he indicated the others of K Unit. "I never would've expected you, Eagle, to be the one who grew a pair and talk to me straight."

Eagle beamed like a child being praised by its teacher.

"Now, I don't know about _you _guys, but all these apologies are starting to make me feel weird." A chorus of agreements ran around the room. "Alrighty then." He pushed himself off the bunk and made his way to the door when someone stepped in front of him. It was Wolf.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"That's the nicest tone you've used on me since I started here. Glad to see you acting so civilized." Alex moved past his unit leader. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I really need to get back. Sergeant Sanders may not look it, but he worries about me."

"Wait!" Cheetah called out and Alex sighed yet again before turning around.

"What?"

"Well, we were just wondering if you could... _enlighten _us on some things. See, we've been talking about you –"

"Surprise, surprise." muttered Alex.

"And some things have popped up that don't make any sense. Or any sense that _we_ know of."

Alex walked back to his bunk, but decided to stay standing this time. "Like what?" he sighed. Again.

"The first time I met you. When you were getting ready to go to sleep and talking back to Wolf about being nice... Well, I remember you saying, 'With the work we do, you might never know which day will be your last.'"

He actually remembered that? "And what about that?"

"It's just... I never got to ask you why you said '_we_'."

"Ah." Sometimes, Alex forgot that not everyone knew who he was.

Cheetah smiled a smile of relief. "So could you... I don't know, elaborate on that or something?"

"Well, what do you guys do for a living?"

"... Stuff."

Alex rolled his eyes at the cryptic answer. "Just to let you know; the government sees me as MI6 as well as SAS now. There's nothing you know that I already don't – work-wise. I already know what it is that you guys do; I'm just trying to point out the obvious to make it easier."

"Detailed explanation, please." said Eagle.

"Okay. The SAS are a bunch of elitist soldiers, right? So, in this base, it's pretty rough, and a lot of people will yell at how incompetent you are and blah blah blah. But, when seen completely as a whole, or even as an individual, against the regular troops of the British Army, you guys – let's face it – are some A-List motherfuckers."

Eagle and Cheetah chuckled; Wolf smirked.

"Damn straight, we are." voiced a wry Snake.

"So...?" he encouraged; God, these men were dense sometimes.

"So... you've basically answered the question." Cheetah straightened from his slouch against the wall, stupefied at the implications. "Don't tell me you've already done SAS-level missions." The others were slow to pick up and looked confused.

"Well, it depends on what you're –"

And in an abrupt movement, Cheetah moved across the small space to grab both of Alex's upper arms in a tight grip. "_Just exactly how old are you?_" he bit out with a tiny shake. His green eyes looked a little wild; just waiting for the answer to give him a reason to shake his teammate like a leaf. And yeah, he thought of Cub as a teammate.

But Cheetah realised his mistake as soon as he registered the look on Cub's face.

The ice-cold aura turned into contempt as Alex plucked Cheetah's arms and tucked them back at his side with an almost brutally controlled movement. "Cub, sorry, I was –"

Alex lost the slight tension and sighed as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "No, Cheetah.. it was me." He was reluctant to say it, but they had to understand. "... In a fight, I'm... not the type of person to wait and think about which kick, or which punch I should use – everything's instinctive, yeah? And, I guess it's partially because I've been learning how to fight since I was little, so it's a reflex sometimes. It's just...you guys have to learn that I won't always focus on my surroundings. Sure, I'm going to be aware that you're walking towards me, but that's it. To me, when I'm not completely there, you're just _someone _walking towards me." Wolf looked about ready to laugh at him, and the other's were looking wary with a dash of skepticism. Realising how grave he sounded – and, to anyone who didn't know him, a bit arrogant – Alex wanted to wince.

He didn't, though, so he gave a calculated smirk and added in, "To put it in simpler terms, it's rule thirty-four of _What to Do and What Not to Do Around Cub: _Do not make any sudden, unexpected moves and accidentally catch Cub unawares; he will not be held responsible for what happens afterward, nor will any damage, whether personal or otherwise, be compensated for." It made things seem like a joke when he said these 'rules'.

It also provided him with a backdoor; meaning, it let Alex snatch his hand back before he got burnt. He'd tried to tell them, but hey, eventually, they would learn that what he had said was true.

As went the popular saying: All in good time.

"Cub," the softly spoken word seemed to involuntarily slip out of Eagle, who had been left unnoticed at the back of the room.

"What?"

"Could you answer Cheetah's question?"

Back to his unaffected self, Alex looked around the room, before settling on Wolf and his dark eyes. Oh, how he was going to enjoy _this _revelation. "I turned nineteen this year."

Snake groaned and thumped his head against the wall. "_What?_"

Wolf had been smiling before; now he'd lost that smile and was looking absolutely... well, troubled. And a little thunderous.

Pulling on a tuft of his chocolate brown hair, Cheetah let out a heavy sigh to show that he was struggling, but still able, to control his feelings. "Eagle," he said. "How long ago did Cub come to... briefly train with you guys?"

"Five years ago." he calmly replied.

Ten seconds of silence and then; "_Fourteen?_" cried Cheetah to Alex. "You were _fourteen?_" He started pacing the short length between bunks, weaving in and out in an effort to just. Keep. Moving.

"Cheetah, it's not –"

He whirled around, those emerald eyes of his glowing – _livid _– with anger. "I can _barely_ comprehend it if it were my _six__teen_ year old nephew who went through our kind of training. But, _fourteen?_ How is it even fucking _possible_?" Both hands to his head, Alex felt like Cheetah was truly living up to his namesake. He prowled the floors, seeming to embody the animal. The air felt charged with his fury. And to think that everybody thought Wolf was the one to be afraid of.

"You're meant to be running around, playing football and teasing girls at fourteen; not bloody go through _SAS_!" he suddenly barked.

"Listen," Alex tried to soothe him. "It was only for eleven days, besides, it was during selection, so it wasn't as –"

"_BLOODY SELECTION_?" he roared. "That's practically the hardest part of the course!" He kicked the corner of his bunk hard enough to send it moving a couple centimetres. Alex opened his mouth to reassure Cheetah that it hadn't been all that bad (even though it had been), but the man glared at him; daring him to say another word.

"It was only for eleven da –"

"You!" he cut through Alex and then closed his eyes for a second; trying keep his anger under wraps. "Do not even _speak_ another word until I tell you to." Cheetah then let out a strangled sound of pent up anger and frustration and fell down onto his bunk, cradling his head in his hands.

"Four_teen?_" he lamented brokenly.

Alex edged forward, feeling like he had another one of those over emotional women on his hands. But, since Cheetah was most definitely male, he chose to do the next best thing. Well... if it were up to him, it'd be punching some sense into the man, but alas, the world didn't work through Alex's ways.

Instead, he just awkwardly patted Cheetah's head; as though he were comforting a pet. The rest of K Unit stared at him, even as Cheetah lifted his head to stare at him, too.

"Chee... – I can call you Chee, right? Okay. Well. Don't beat yourself up over something that's happened in the past. These guys," he pointed to Snake, Wolf and Eagle. "were _with me_; and are they feeling guilty for having made my time there harder than it already was? No –"

"I didn't know you were _fourteen_, Cub!"

Alex stiffened and turned to give Snake a warning glare. "Honestly, how old did I look to you back then? I was pretty small and looked obviously young. You guys never thought to sympathize, or even _try_ to make life more bearable for me. I felt miserable there, but you're lucky I'm not the type to give up when shit gets thrown my way. Suck it up, guys. You didn't understand why some meager little schoolboy was wasting your time back then, and I sure as hell don't expect you to understand why I was even there in the first place."

"You make them sound horrible." Cheetah smirked at Snake. "You come from a big family, don't you, Snake? I wonder how they would react to you neglecting a fourteen year old in a SAS training base."

"It was _selection!_" he defended himself. "All I cared about was making it through the next day without feeling like I could drop at any given moment in exhaustion and being pushed too far!"

"Gentlemen, please," Alex crowed. "Behave."

"Cub."

"What, Wolf?"

"Are you going to tell Cheetah whether or not you've done SAS-level missions?" he asked curiously. He seemed to have accepted the fact that Alex did _something_.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Ha! I knew it! You don't even _do _the kind of missions we do, do you? Your parents probably pay actors off to pretend to be criminals just so you can act heroics and save the day." ... Or not.

"How can you say that!" Eagle shouted angrily. "I _told_ you about his scars and how he got them! I _told_ you and you _still_ don't believe me!"

Wolf ignored him and narrowed his eyes at Alex. "You may have fooled the others, but I'm not so gullible."

No response came, and Cheetah twisted around to apologise for Wolf's behaviour. And was promptly flooded with very unmanly concern. ... Cub hadn't necessarily gone blank on them; but his face had suddenly lost the degree that had made him seem so fresh and young and almost carefree.

"Hit a nerve did I?" Wolf seemed to relish his words with a smile.

"Cub," Cheetah started. "Wolf doesn't know how to control –"

Alex had placed his hand on Cheetah's shoulder, and he now squeezed hard enough to make him stop talking. "You all should listen to what I'm about to say, because I'm not going to repeat myself."

Eagle and Snake automatically leaned forward.

"Rule fifty-six of _What to Do and What Not to Do Around Cub:_ Do not assume or speculate about Cub – you will almost always get it wrong. Do not confront him about anything; if you do, you're going to leave thoroughly shamed and humiliated." Alex intoned with a deadened voice; it was as if he'd gone over this particular rule many times and had it engraved on his tired tongue.

Only now did he let the bomb drop on Wolf's sorry ass.

"My parent's are dead."

* * *

Daniel Sanders had gone looking for his young self-appointed charge. Alex should have been back ages ago; and Sanders knew he shouldn't need to worry – the youthful spy could look after himself better than any of the soldiers in the base. Or be up to the equivalent of his men's survival skills.

But, try as he might, a nagging feeling in his gut had told him to go looking for Alex. He always trusted his gut.

And, furthermore, it would seem that he had become dependent on Alex's brain. The words on the papers just wouldn't focus anymore.

So Sanders had gone to the kitchen, in hopes of finding Alex being pampered by the cooks; but Beth, one of the cooks, just threatened him with a knife, saying his soldiers were too harsh and 'man-handily' with poor, young, innocent Cub. Apparently, they'd dragged him off to only who knew where. She had said, "God forbid they lay another finger on him. I'll deal with them myself if I have to."

Daniel had quickly reassured the woman that he had it in mind to punish them himself and strode off in an even angrier mood. Those papers needed to be processed by tomorrow. He needed Alex.

That's how he found himself, standing in front of K Unit's cabin, hand reaching for the door, frozen to the spot. Alex had just announced to his unit that his parents were dead, and Daniel was furious at Wolf's sneering tone. But he held himself at bay; none of them knew that they were talking to MI6's – maybe even the world's – child prodigy. Technically young adult now, but who cared about all those technicalities?

Something sounding suspiciously like a body part hitting an inanimate object was heard through the door and Sanders shifted from leg to leg; should he intervene, before things got out of hand, or allow the unit to sort it out themselves, therefore growing as a group together?

A muffled voice came through. "D-Did I just hear right?"

"Yeah, Snake, you did." He heard Alex scoff. "What self-respecting, _loving_ parents would let their child go off to an SAS training base?"

Sanders involuntarily nodded his head, agreeing completely with Alex.

"Oh, God, ah, Cub... listen we're sor –"

"I don't need to hear it."

Army boots padded across the floorboards of the cabin, and Sanders realised that they were headed straight for the door. It was open ground for at least a couple hundred feet in every direction, and the nearest cabin was almost twenty-five feet away, so he decided to stay put as the door opened to reveal Alex. For a moment, pinned with his stare, the Sergeant felt as though _he _were the inferior one to the spy's slightly irritated, slightly-more-than-bored-looking, obviously-more-superior self.

The look disappeared the second he saw it, and he knew that Alex now only adopted the casual smile he gave, whose hand was still on the door; smile growing all the bigger. Alex had undoubtedly already known he was standing at the door. "Hello, Sanders."

Scrambling to deal with the somewhat new situation, he chose to just follow Alex's lead. "Hello, Cub." He frowned. "I was expecting you back a while ago."

A glint appeared in his chocolate eyes. "Ah, yes, you can blame that on K Unit over here." He threw a thumb back at his fairly pale and shocked unit.

Sanders smirked. "Wasn't disturbing anything, was I?"

Alex gave one shake of his head, crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "Meet you back at your office?"

"Thanks to you, I spent half an hour stumbling across this barren waste of land looking for you."

"So I should... go... or...?" He trailed off confusingly.

This time, it was Sanders who cocked an eyebrow. "There's a shitload of paperwork on my desk that needs doing. Scat."

Alex didn't move, and he rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'll meet you back at my office. I expect you to be head deep in those papers – and don't worry, I might help you."

Giving a childish grin, Alex strode away.

He almost sagged in relief; those papers were a nightmare. "Kid's a lifeline I never even knew I needed." Sanders muttered under his breath.

But... something was bugging him. Why had he told K Unit so much about himself on his own?

He had been in Alex's company enough to know that he never usually saw the need to tell people anything about himself; unless they saw it for themselves, or someone started asking specific questions.

And despite how he'd poked and prodded and questioned, the spy kept up the same persona. Casual, laid-back, and easy-going. All essentially the same meanings in three words.

He was also very... blasé. It had been quite unnerving the first couple days they had spent together.

The first inquiry, when the tension of his curiosity had gotten the better of him, had been blurted out as, "You were never assigned to having lessons at the firing range – have you shot at people?" It was stupid, because of course he'd shot at people before. The real question was whether or not he'd killed with a gun – he could have phrased it more eloquently, though.

Sanders had been momentarily struck dumb when he'd answered straight-forwardly and nonchalantly replied, "Course I have. Kids. Adults. The elderly. The homeless. Gang members. Businessmen and women. Drug lords. Politicians. Country leaders. Celebrities. Millionaires and billionaires. Terrorists. Contract killers. Government agents. The list goes on and on; it's unbelievable, really." He had shaken his head in wry amusement, and didn't look up to see that Sanders jaw was now halfway to China and his eyes had widened enough to resemble saucepans.

"Now," he continued. "Those are only the people I've shot at. If you're asking me what I think you're asking, I'm going to ask you a question first – and I want you to repeat it to yourself in your head." Then he had looked up with his chilling brown eyes and an opening smile. Somehow, Alex _had_ been able to read in between the lines. "Do you really want to know?" He'd known exactly what Sanders had wanted to know.

And Sanders wasn't stupid; he had immediately switched topics to tread onto safer grounds.

A half-stunned, half-disgruntled looking Wolf stormed out of the cabin, knocking him back to the present.

He smiled. The men before him – K Unit – were undeniably stupid.

Sanders watched as Wolf barked something at a now frightened soldier and kept watching as he then stalked toward the general vicinity of the firing range. He turned back with an amused face. Advancing a step into the room, he could almost _feel_ the shock pouring off of all of them from Alex's disclosure. "Well. I'm not sure whether I should be laughing myself silly, or beating the shit out of all of you."

Eagle, the insufferable dolt, gaped.

"_Excuse_ _me_?" Cheetah squeaked.

Then he heard Snake politely clear his throat. "So, you, ah, heard all of that, sir?"

Almost choking, because he really wanted to laugh in their faces, he berated himself for thinking of being so nice and frowned. "I heard enough, gentlemen." he said darkly. "Stand to attention, please."

For some reason, they didn't snap to it like usual, sensing this was completely different, so they slowly rose to their feet instead, and stood in a straight line in front of the fearsome Sergeant.

"Certain promises have been made, so I can't say too much –" Sanders stopped mid-sentence and chuckled, almost bringing shock onto the faces of his soldiers. "Oh, who am I kidding? I could say whatever I want to you guys and Cub still wouldn't resent me for it." Then he smiled, and Eagle, Cheetah and Snake exchanged dreaded looks.

Sanders stepped back, grabbed the door and paused to look at the men. "I could tell you who Cub is," he said.

They all visibly tensed, knowing any scrap of information about Cub was welcome scrap.

"I could tell you why you'll never get proper answers out of him the way you're going at him now. I could tell you how to befriend him; how to approach him the right way. And I could tell you how he'd choose company to solitude and how he'd tell me because it was a necessity." He tilted his head to study them. "And there's this one thing I'm almost dying to tell you, because I know Cub's not going to. He wouldn't gloat or brag about it; or rub it in anyone's face. And that's why I want to tell you – so _I_ can rub it your faces."

He breathed in deep, and sighed out contentedly, "But I'm not going to."

Their disappointment was almost palpable; but he still wasn't satisfied.

"Cub will tell you who he is when the need comes, but until then..." He grinned again. "Here's something to chew on – knowing Cub is a lot of power."

He left the dumbfounded group behind, actually feeling better and looking forward to doing the paperwork with Alex; like usual.

* * *

K Unit might have always been fighting, but in the end, they were pretty cohesive.

Two thoughts were running through their minds at that moment; the first was that in all their years in the SAS, they had never seen the Sergeant so much as breathe nicely in their direction. They weren't even sure if he knew the meaning of the word _nice_. But there he'd been; smirking and seemingly having a deeper connection to, and an understanding of their fifth member than they – Cub's own unit – did.

The second?

_Knowing Cub is a lot of power._

What the hell had Sergeant Sanders meant by that ambiguous and frustrating hint?

* * *

**Author's Note: I was going to keep going, but decided to leave you all waiting. Wrote it all without much editing :C I'm trying to keep this as realistic as possible, but sometimes, it just all gets out of hand. Plus; this is my imagination. I'm trying to tamp it down; I swear.**

**I've been receiving many reviews, followers and favourites, and I'm absolutely overjoyed that you guys want me to to continue this. I'm going to keep as many options open as I can for this story – I don't want to write myself into a corner and let the story die! And, as a bonus, it'll keep you readers wondering what's happening next. It could be this, or it could be that; it could be anything!**

**I'm going to pace myself, and will try to update at least once every week now; at the latest would hopefully be once every two weeks.**

**I thank you for your continued devotion as you read and review my slowly updating story!**

**Any ideas, suggestions or something you want to see in the coming chapters?**

**P.S. This chapter is dedicated to PlatinumOwl and that mysterious guest reviewer who never logs in; Strawberry. Why? Because I feel like it.**


	6. Chapter 6

"I think you should start up your classes again, Cub."

"I think not." They were in the office again, and it had been two days since K Unit's failed confrontation. The new day had barely begun.

"When you came, you told me it was for protection, _as well as doing a refresher course_. That requires you to attend them."

"No, it doesn't."

Sanders grunted in frustration. "Why don't you want to go to class? What's the harm?"

"You're right," snorted Alex. "Where _is_ the harm?"

"My men happen to be very harmful, thank you very much. But back to what I was saying," he said sternly. He wasn't going to be deterred. "You need to go to your classes."

Alex scrunched up his nose in distaste. "No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"Everything I need to know is right up here." He tapped his right temple with his pen.

"Put it to good use then, and exercise that knowledge." Sanders proposed. "K Unit should be just about to rise; if you go now, you can catch them at the mess hall for breakfast." he smiled. "The more time you spend with me, the fatter you'll get."

"I'm in basic physical perfection." Alex rolled his eyes. "Next thing I know, you're going to start telling me I'll turn into a potato at this rate."

"Exactly." nodded the Sergeant.

"If I go," Alex said suspiciously. "What's in it for me?"

"I..." He bit his tongue; he wanted to say that Alex had to get all the education he could so he could better persevere on his missions, but he knew how the spy would reply to that. "... I'll give you leave to show up the SAS soldiers. Don't make anyone else come in here though; I might get more than angry."

"Leave," he said slowly. "As in _permission_? What makes you think I need permission for anything I decide to do?"

Sanders shook his head. "I know you do whatever you want. But if you ever decide to punch the arrogance in my men back in line..." he dragged it on suggestively.

Lips curling up, the young man stood and stretched. "...Then I've already got your permission." Alex finished off the sentenced and groaned as some bones cracked. He then yawned. "Alright then, sir, I'll go to my lessons. And your challenge is accepted."

A knee-jerk reaction seemed to occur with the Sergeant as his eyes flew to Alex. "What challenge?" he demanded. "I didn't challenge you!" No good would come with challenging Alex Rider – he knew that.

"Ah, but you did, sir, when you told me to show up your men. That's the one thing I _don't_ want to do."

"But how did you interpret that as a cha –"

"Hush, sir. What I meant was that –"

"Did you just _hush_ me?" he squawked indignantly.

"Would you just let me finish?" Alex pressed forcefully. When the Sergeant didn't say anything, he continued on with a prim tone. "What I _meant_ was that I _will_ show them up. Just... well, more modestly, I guess."

"What are you blabbering on about?"

"Twenty quid says they won't actually realise I'm even flaunting what I can do in their faces. Come by to watch me today. Or tomorrow, if I go to classes."

Sanders frowned. "How the hell would that work?"

"There's a little thing called subtlety, you know."

"Oh, shut up."

"So... it's a bet?"

The Sergeant looked at Alex's outstretched hand, and grabbed it seriously.

"You're on, kid." They both grinned at each other and shook over the desk.

It was a done deal; there was no going back now.

* * *

As K Unit sat down to eat, the call of "'Sup, gentlemen." had them half-rising again in surprise. There stood Cub, with an empty tray in his hands.

"No, no, don't get up on my behalf." Cub said brightly. "Eat your food. I'm going to grab mine."

Eyes followed him when he walked toward the kitchen door.

"Is Cub joking with us?" asked Cheetah. "He comes here, mentions nothing of what happened two days ago and now he just walks into the kitchen like its normal. I tried it once. I almost got my hand chopped off for touching the cheese."

"But," Eagle said thoughtfully. "Didn't he come out of the kitchen that other day, too?"

"Yeah, he seemed to be pretty good friends with the cooks." interjected Snake.

Not two seconds later, the young SAS member tumbled out the door with a cheeky smile. His dark golden hair was in disarray, like someone had chosen to place their hand on his head and artfully ruffle it. There was a spark in his eyes that they'd never seen before.

"He looks happy," murmured Snake.

But what everyone else seemed to immediately notice, was his full hands.

Food that had the look of heaven to the SAS soldiers was heaped upon his tray. Almost everyone in K Unit, in scary unison, looked down at their plate of dreary food and then looked back up in outrage. It made Cub's grin go wider.

"Hey! How come you've got something different from us?" Eagle accused as Cub sat down beside Cheetah.

He shrugged and picked up a piece of lightly buttered toast. "They actually like me."

"I'm likable," grumbled Snake as he poked at his food and glared dishearteningly at Cub's plate. "How come they don't give _me_ edible food?"

"Maybe it's because I actually make an effort to talk to them instead of making demands for food like they're robots."

"He's got a point." agreed Eagle, and then; "I backed you up, Cub. Can I please have a piece of that fruit?"

"I happen to like apples."

"Can I have a grape?"

He reached for one, and Cub slapped his hand away. "I'll lick each and every one of them if you don't keep your hands to yourself."

Eagle sulked but then he brightened and pointed. "What about those strawberries? They look awfully sour, don't they? Surely you don't want them."

His face was full of hope, and inside, Alex was cackling as he crushed them. "Sorry, but the strawberries aren't for for the taking. They're for me. To eat." Eagle deflated and just took another grimacing bite of his food.

"So, um, Cub, what have you been doing these past couple days?" Snake hesitantly inquired.

Cub shrugged and finished off his toast. "Oh, you know; this and that."

"Um, okay. Uh... you enjoying your stay here?" The medic winced at the dumb question.

"Totally; never been more enjoyable in my life."

The sarcasm made Snake want to hit his head on the table.

"Hey, Cub, what have you been doing with the Sergeant lately?" Eagle leered at him, waiting for a reply.

Cheetah suppressed a snicker as he watched one teammate trying to draw Cub out of his shell, another trying to obviously fish for information, and the last one eating in silence because he was irritated with his unit, and also because he hated mornings.

The sight was quite comical.

"I don't swing any way but straight, so don't get any ideas."

Eagle coughed – and then coughed some more. Snake's previously contained smile broke out and Wolf just grunted in amusement.

"No doubt I want to bleach my eyes out right now." Eagle gasped out, tears shining in his eyes as he continued to cough.

Silence ensued once more, and Cheetah felt the need to speak. But he needed to make sure the conversation wouldn't come to a rolling stop, like the way Snake and Eagle had been satisfied without actually being satisfied.

His eyes narrowed imperceptibly; Cub was a tricky one to work with, so he allowed a moment or two to pass by as they ate.

"You finished high school, right?" he asked airily.

Alex didn't know what had overcome his unit, but he could guess, and no way was he going to let them steer the conversation. He twisted his lips in thought. "Well, I didn't have much time for school," he saw Cheetah's face and rushed out a "_But!_"

"But...?" Cheetah growled.

"I was given the best education available and I took private exams for my levels." He popped a grape into his mouth, but could still feel Cheetah's stare burning holes into his head and he rubbed his nape. "I, uh, I came out as one of the top twenty in the country. Not that anyone knew, seeing as my name wasn't allowed to be printed. But I was fine with the fact that no one knew because _I_ knew, you know?"

Soaking in the words that had been uttered, the four men of K Unit peered at Alex with something akin to disbelief and being stunned.

He was sitting next to someone who had academically surpassed hundreds upon thousands in England, save for twenty others, Cheetah realised. But instead of being a snotty brat who acted like he was smarter and more important than everyone else, Cub was a quiet, sub-consciously felt presence who wasn't one for attention seeking. He treated those of K Unit like they were on equal grounds and answered their questions without too much complaint. He didn't try to talk intellectually – he talked calmly, patiently, but with a quality that said he was the same as everyone else.

Who knew what lay underneath.

Who was he really?

Cheetah resolved in that instant to gain Cub's trust – how else would he ever open up to them?

"Best education? Snake said softly.

Something shivered inside Cheetah and he felt like he had when they'd been targeted by a sniper back in Malaysia. _Something_ was targeting _him_.

He looked around, but saw nothing out of the usual. Until he meet some guarded eyes.

Cub stared at him with an almost predatory look. Half-lidded and cool.

Cheetah couldn't help but think of his imminent demise. He looked away, almost uncomfortably so, and castigated himself for reading too much into a look.

But it hadn't been just a look, had it? It had seemed as if Cub knew exactly what his thoughts had been.

He felt Cub shift his attention away to Snake, and internally sighed in relief. Something about that kid unnerved the soldier in him.

"MI6 wouldn't settle for less. _I_ wouldn't settle for less. Especially not since they're the ones who took it all away in the first place."

There was that acronym again. Why did he keep referring to them? "MI6?" asked a puzzled Cheetah. He'd shaken off the unsettling feelings; it was all nothing to worry about, right? "If you don't mind me asking, but... this had to be going on for some years, where were your parents in all of this before they, uh, passed away?" Cub stood, and he noticed that his tray was clean – when had he eaten all his food? Cheetah glanced down at his own half-eaten plate. His appetite had been lost during the conversation.

"I never knew them. They died when I was only a couple weeks old. Now, if you guys are done, we need to get going."

They silently agreed to talk no more of his parents at the moment and ditched their trays where it was supposed to be ditched before making their way to the doors.

"Hey, Wolf!" A voice shouted out.

Wolf turned around, annoyed beyond belief for no apparent reason. The voice belonged to Bear of F Unit. Wolf didn't really like him; maybe that was the reason.

"Who's the new tag-a-long?" They sat on the table closest to the door, so it had been inevitable to walk by them.

And there was nothing wrong with that particular question. It was the way it was spoken. Sneered and with a distinct look of animosity.

K Unit's leader bristled. No one pulled shit on his unit but him.

"I'm not freaking new!" Alex cried quietly as he looked pleadingly into Cheetah's eyes.

Eagle, who had been standing beside him, petted his shoulder in consolidation. "Don't worry, Cub, we know you're not new."

Acting as though none of that was going on behind him, Wolf just glared at Bear. "None of your fucking business."

Now, a person who didn't know Wolf would probably have taken offense, but since everybody knew of Wolf's legendary temper, they made nothing of it.

As if in mental accordance, they all filed out the door, but Alex made sure to be the last one.

He stopped, just as Cheetah disappeared, and he was left alone with the others in the mess hall. Those around F Unit and close enough to see the slight tension between Wolf and Bear were now showing interest in the mysterious addition to K Unit.

The rest of the mess hall carried on its ignorant chatter.

Alex dropped everything. The smile, the light in his eyes, the open and friendly, innocent attitude.

Bear felt the air around him plummet a few degrees and the hairs on his body stand on end.

"If you have any questions, then you ask me. No fucking way will you give crap to K Unit about having some brat trailing behind them. They're _my_ unit, so don't even try to put one over them, or I'll put a bullet through your fucking head."

The man sitting across from Bear, who had been listening to the one-sided exchange raised a hand. "Geez, relax, will you? Bear was just wondering who you were, 'cause you look a bit young. It's not something you see everyday in an SAS base. No need to get vicious."

"Maybe I am young, or maybe I just look young; what's it to you, anyway?"

Bear watched the kid with interest and condescension, taking no real action against the guy. But, then something happened.

Just as the kid was out the door, he turned back to stare at Bear with a frosting look. "The name's Cub," he heard. Well, this guy, Cub, was quiet enough that Bear had to strain to hear him, so he leaned forward.

Falcon followed the kid's lips, and some words were spoken to his sharpshooter that he couldn't quite hear over the din of noise.

Then, with a brief, indifferent glance at Falcon, K Unit's strange fifth guy left. He seemed to take the chilly atmosphere with it.

"So, Bear," he said with a grin that he quickly lost as he saw his friends bemused face. "Bear?"

But his teammate didn't hear him – he was deep in thought.

Now, Falcon prided himself on the fact that he could read lips _relatively_ well; but he hadn't been able to catch all of it.

He'd read something along the lines of;

_The name's _(Cub?), _I'm K Unit's _(unofficial?)_ fifth member and I wasn't _(bluffing?).

Falcon was sure he'd gotten it wrong, and he was sure as hell going to find out what the kid's real words to Bear were.

* * *

Cheetah stared.

And stared.

And stared.

His eyes hadn't closed since Cub had began doing the obstacle course, of which he was now two minutes and nine seconds into it.

Cheetah's eyes were starting to burn.

My God, they were starting to _burn_. He finally – blessedly – blinked, and blinked a few more times to disperse the slight sting accompanied with leaving your eyes open for too long.

"Did you see what he just did!" Eagle blustered.

"Devil take it." said Cheetah. "I blink for the first time since he's started moving, and I _miss_ something." he turned to Snake, who was avidly watching their young Cub. "What'd I miss?"

"Everything." he snapped without much bite; he was too engrossed with observing the abnormally agile Cub. "Just watch."

Cheetah obliged him.

With a cat-like efficiency, Cub climbed and leaped and sprinted and dived and fell and all these other magnificently insignificant things – things that you couldn't _help_ but compare to those of a feline.

"Perhaps he lived in the wild when he was younger?" suggested Cheetah.

"Maybe," murmured Snake.

Panting lightly, and, although K Unit had no idea how he did it, looking like he'd avoided wearing _too_ much mud, Cub came dashing over. He smiled and waited patiently for Sergeant Ashby to give him his time.

"Thirteen minutes and seven seconds, brat." he spat out. Ah, so it was back to being the offensive, rude officer? Alex was fine with that; besides, their instructors all had hard reputations to uphold. "Only two seconds less than last time, if I remember correctly."

Alex nodded to indicate that he had remembered correctly.

"Pathetic," he said dismissively. "Do better next time. Now, Eagle, it's your turn." They all watched him plod off with a dejected form about him. "..._Stop dragging your feet and act like a real soldier, damn it!_"

"_But, sir!_" came the distant, adamant reply. Alex saw his foot come up to stomp on the ground.

"_Don't you 'But, sir!' me, Eagle, or so help me, I will kick your butt to next week and then some!_"

Now that Cheetah had seen how one could gracefully go about the obstacle course, Eagle just looked like a lumbering elephant. Of course, he finished it quite neatly and extremely well done; but it just didn't... it just wasn't the way Cub had done it. At least no more comparisons could be made, seeing as how Eagle was the last one to do the obstacle course. The kid seemed to be good at everything.

"Get to your fucking lessons, men."

"Yes, sir."'s said four soldiers and a spy.

"What class have you got now, Chee?"

Stopping mid-step, he mouthed the word 'Jesus' to himself, before he turned around to find Cub harmlessly standing not a foot away from him. How the hell did he do that?

"Uh, Linguistics. What about you?"

Cub made a face. "Some geography related topic."

"I'm guessing it's not one of your strong points?" _Finally, something I know he isn't good at, so far._

"Eh..." he shrugged. "I understand maps and land and all that pretty well. More than basic, yet less than advance knowledge, if you get me."

Cheetah let out a subtle sigh. "Yeah, I get you." So he was still moderately good.

"See you later," he said.

"See you." replied Cheetah. When he realised that Cub still hadn't left, he looked over to see what was wrong.

Cub was staring at him cautiously before drawing out the word, "... Alligator." Then he sprinted off, leaving a very confused Cheetah in his midst.

He frowned, but just walked to class, thinking very intensely, when at last, realisation struck him at the door of his classroom; "See you later... alligator." he whispered to no one in particular.

His small chuckles soon turned into raucous laughter and his fellow soldiers found him laughing still as they settled down to learn.

* * *

Alex sat in the back, twiddling his thumbs as the... students flowed in. It felt extremely weird referring to the SAS soldiers as students, but it was what they were, technically speaking.

"Hey, Munro."

"How're you going, Mr Munro?"

"What up, Captain M."

Captain Munro was presumably the one who was going to teach them.

"Alright, men, we –" The instructor's eyes landed on Alex, and curiosity flickered. "It seems we have a new person joining us today." Heads turned to the back of the room.

Biting the inside of his cheek, Alex reminded himself that Munro was only trying to appease his curiosity; he wasn't singling Alex out to be mean.

"Your name?" he asked.

Alex cleared his throat. "Cub, sir."

A few inevitable snickers ran around the room, and Munro suppressed a grin. "That's a bit of an odd codename." he said. "And we'll get to the bottom of that later, because what I really want to know is – why are you here?"

Frowning, Alex opened his mouth, but Watson put up a hand. "Now, I'm not trying to be rude, all I'm saying is, like high school, we have levels of learning. This is the more senior level within the SAS; for those who have been with us for more than a couple of years and have progressed through the lessons. You seem to be looking _too_ young to be in this class. Do you understand why I'm asking?"

Alex arched an eyebrow. "Yes, sir."

The man ran his tongue over his upper teeth. "Well, Cub?"

He didn't say anything.

"You going to tell us why you're here?"

Alex debated; and then thought, _Ah, to hell with it._

"When I first came here to Brecon Beacons," he began. Many faces turned interested. "The Sergeant took an immediate dislike to me because I looked so young. I think he kinda felt that I was invading his camp. Like I was rubbing dirt into the British SAS name by being here. And maybe it was 'cause of my age, but he decided to give me the codename Cub." Murno nodded for Alex to keep explaining. "Anyway, I left, but then something came up a couple weeks ago, and here I am now." He shrugged.

Captain Munro looked stern. "But why are you in _this_ class, though?"

"I..." He hesitated before acquiescing. "I left this training base a while ago... And I doubt any of you can remember me." Puberty and all that.

"Remember you...?" the guy next to him said.

"Wait, wait," said Alex. "How long have _you_ guys been with SAS?"

"All of us?"

Alex nodded.

"Uh, approximately... four years?" the guy looked around, and his fellow men nodded with him.

"Oh," Alex frowned and settled his eyes on Munro. "None of you would've met me then."

"Met you when?"

He chewed on his cheek before replying, "I came to Brecon Beacons five years ago." Alex could almost hear the crickets chirping in the silence.

Munro broke it first. "Huh," he nonchalantly muttered. "Interesting. But," he scowled half-heartedly. "You left Brecon Beacons five years ago. So no more training, no more learning and no more missions since then, right? I'm going to repeat myself – _why_ are you here in _this_ class?"

God, this guy was persistent.

Alex shrugged again. "Contrary to your beliefs, I have been training, I have been learning and I –" he cut himself short. "I'm in this class, because I'm assumed to be the equivalent of a soldier who has been with the SAS for five years. There's also the fact that I've been, er, reunited with my old unit."

"Old unit?"

He looked at the door forlornly; longing to escape the now stuffy room. "K Unit, sir."

Surprise had Munro whistling low in appreciation. "K Unit?" he said. "You must be good."

"... I haven't trained with them in a while; so I wouldn't know." Of bloody course he was good. He didn't make it this far by being a bumbling buffoon. Well; he had – his lucky streak still hadn't ended after all these years – but he now knew a lot of stuff that helped him along the way.

"Modest," conceded Munro. "I like you."

Alex didn't quite know how to respond to someone who had just blatantly said, 'I like you' in front of the soldiers. "Er, thank you... sir?"

He nodded. "I like you, so I'm not going to ask any more questions. Class has now officially started –"

The men in the room groaned and Alex felt the ridiculous urge to smile. It felt like he was back in high school; no one wanted class to start. But, the soldiers were all noticeably more disciplined than normal students. They all knew this wasn't the useless stuff high school teachers had tried to drill into them; this was stuff they had to learn to _survive_.

"– so all of you shut the hell up or I will kick you out." he succinctly finished with a grin. Munro was the kind of person Alex knew everybody would like upon first meeting him.

Questions were placed here and there at the start that Alex had to answer; which he did rather adequately. He was, in no way, a novice in the area, but was also not an expert in this field, though his words satisfied Captain Munro enough to leave him alone for the rest of the lesson.

* * *

Alex skipped the swimming part. After the episode with K Unit last time, he shuddered to think about what would happen this time round when they saw his body for the first time. He would request for a different swimming schedule with the Sergeant, or whoever was in charge of their schedules, later.

In the meantime, he hung out with the birds in the forest, mapping out any distinguishing marks in case he ever had to flee into the forest. It would take a couple of long hours, from a couple of long weeks to be able to orientate himself without much confusion.

But for now, he had his next class to get to.

Alex almost sighed wearily when his next destination came into sight.

The sounds of guns cocking, targets moving, feet jogging and people yelling were not at all reminiscent of his very, very short time spent with Scorpia. Alex remembered very clearly that there had been no yelling or feet jogging. Their assassins were taught to be as silent as possible.

The fluidity and speed of the more experienced assassins had quietly amazed Alex, even to this day. They had to learn to make all movement into one long, drawn-out movement when metaphorically hunting. They took one chance in one moment. If they failed – which they were rarely ever said to do, even though they failed horribly when it came to Alex – they would take another chance. But that was all. One chance per moment. In that moment, they did everything concisely, dexterously and completely handed themselves over to the mission they had accepted.

Alex didn't care about the slight difference of work professions that they held; he had wanted and _still_ wanted to be as good a shooter as them.

He got up behind the instructor overseeing the shooting. "SAS teaches instinctive firing to its soldiers, don't they?"

Much to the man's obvious chagrin, he jumped in shock to see the young lad who was an inch or two taller than him beside him.

His dark brown eyebrows slashed down as eyes of the same shade glared at Alex – who was dipping his head in acknowledgement. "Ah, I forgot to do introductions. Cub of K Unit, sir, pleasure to meet you." He put out a hand.

A brief pause entered their one-sided conversation before the man shook it. "K Unit, d'you say? I know all the members of that particular unit, and I can't say I know you. Lieutenant Connolly." Something unreadable slithered across his face as he held onto Alex's hand. "Wait a minute. Don't tell me you're the same Cub who's been cooped up in Sanders office these past few weeks."

Word had gotten around, huh. How?

But what import would it be to Connolly? "What would happen if I said that I was?" he said cautiously.

A bark of laughter escaped Connolly's mouth. "What would happen?" he repeated dubiously. "I would bloody cuff you to me."

Alex took an immediate step backward. A far step backward.

It might have counted as a leap backward.

Looking wary and mildly horrified, he just looked Connolly up and down before vigorously shaking his head. "Cuffs are all fun and games until someone gets hurt."

"What?"

"And then there's also the fact that you would be holding me against my will. And the tiny problem of me preferring the female sex to... you know."

It fell into place with that last comment, and Lieutenant Connolly threw his head back to laugh. When he at last caught his breath, he looked to Alex in amusement. "Sorry for the misunderstanding, but," he chuckled. "You did get me on that one. Anyway, word has been going about you around lately. Oh no, not among the soldiers; but among us instructors and teachers and various other authority figures in this base camp."

"What exactly has been going around?" inquired Alex.

Connolly shrugged as he studied the men firing at targets. "Nothing much, to be truthful, but it's enough to warrant attention on you. Sanders is widely reputed to have a foul temper with the soldiers, and yet, he treats you with something almost like respect. We – me and the other men – heard about that dispute you had with Ashby and Mills."

"Ah."

"More or less, it was said they came to his office with a legitimate reason." He looked to Alex with intrigue.

"My age." he answered the unasked question.

"Sanders was, apparently, already quite familiar with you. He already knew what Ashby and Mills had came for, and you two shared a secret amusement. They voiced their opinions and questions, Sanders threatened to have them discharged if they asked any more questions about you and that... was that?"

Connolly said no more and just patiently waited.

Alex sighed and shifted his weight from leg to leg. "I'm nineteen." he finally grumbled.

"What?"

"I'm nineteen." he said a bit louder.

A particularly loud gunshot shattered around them and as it faded, the Lieutenant falteringly talked. "... I, I guess I can understand why they went to Sanders." he cleared his throat.

"They weren't threatened with being discharged. They were just warned against asking any more questions, s'all." Alex said.

"Oh."

"Sorry to disappoint you, sir."

"... We've wasted enough time as it is, and I was told to see how well you do with the weapons." He gestured for Alex to start walking with him, which he did. "When we get to the firing range, I want you to grab a gun, dismantle at your leisure, and then put it back together, which I will then check to see if everything's in place. I want you to shoot as near to the center as you can; don't worry if you hit far off the target – that's what I'm here for."

"Yes, sir." Alex wearily replied.

"There are three other instructors around the firing range for when you need help and your particular teacher isn't around. One of them regularly works at the infirmary; so you go to him if there are any accidents. We try to prevent all the casualties produced at the firing range, because we're using live ammo."

What? "Yes, sir." Live ammo? How ridiculously dangerous. But then again, Alex had yet to find a serious training base who didn't use live ammunition in the firing ranges.

Scorpia, if he remembered properly, had had a variety of special weapons and special cartridges for special occasions. But they'd rarely used them.

If their employer had wanted a messy, showy death of the victim, Scorpia wouldn't bother with guns. Something extravagant would be done; whether done seemingly naturally, or done for publicity.

If they were exacting revenge on one teenage schoolboy, a simple bullet through a sniper rifle should do the job. Not that it _had_ done the job; they were stupid to try something as doubtful as that.

Now, if Scorpia knew they were going up against military level targets, the armor-piercing bullets would come in handy. Then again, they were primarily assassins and operatives of the highest class – ex-intelligence. The military wouldn't have known what had hit them.

Personally, Alex found guns quite distasteful. They had to be cleaned and checked regularly, there was the danger of running out of bullets at the worst possible time, if you hid them on your persons, it was bound to be found straight away and taken by the captor, and what if a civilian – or worse, someone with legal force who didn't know who Alex was – saw it and asked questions? He was nineteen. Why the hell did he have a gun for?

Alex favored Smithers ever-advancing gadgets; they were much more inconspicuous.

But... guns _did_ have their uses. Plus, it was fun to shoot at things. The pros obviously outweighed the cons.

"Here." Connolly handed him a handgun. "Are you familiar with this gun?" he asked.

Alex shrugged. "The SIG Sauer P226. Usually uses nine millimeter, point three five six SIG or point four zero SW. Can hold up to fifteen rounds, but you guys can extend it to twenty rounds when needed."

"Good," he said. "Now, a lot of people seem to think that we also use the SIG Sauer P228, which is true, but we make all our soldiers train with as many weapons as possible. You never know when you might stumble upon a foreign weapon. That one, while it's more familiar with some soldiers, isn't as compact as the P228, which is greater for close protection and more easily concealed. We use it often for our missions." he nodded at the gun. "You know what to do."

At his leisure, Alex recalled. So, as he went about field stripping the pistol, he took his time. He didn't rush to do it as many others would have done to impress the gun instructor. He checked every inch of the gun in case it was jammed and whatnot. It was, generally, in perfect condition. When he finished putting back together, he looked back up to see that Lieutenant Connolly staring back with both his eyebrows raised.

"Sir?"

"You're nineteen." he stated.

"Yes, sir."

"You look more comfortable and more at ease with stripping that gun than most of my soldiers... Do you think about it?"

"I guess." Alex shrugged with disinterest. "I was only checking to see if everything was good. No jams or anything."

"We'll start with the closer target. Shoot five times to test it out."

He hefted the P226. "Okay." Just as he was about to raise it to the target, he paused and glanced at Connolly. "How do you want me to shoot?"

"You stance is good, everything else is in place. Can you shoot like the other men?"

"Instinctively?"

"Can you?"

Alex shrugged once again. 'I was taught briefly about it a long time ago. I've tried to get it up to the standards of my teachers since."

"We'll see how you go." the Lieutenant said. No sooner had that last word left his his mouth, the trigger had been pulled. Used to the deafening noise, Connolly turned his head to see the target.

It was a bit too far to see where the bullets had gone. "Do you want me to go get it, sir?"

Like the kid had read his mind. "No, we'll go out to see it together. You can run ahead." He did.

Alex turned around just as Connolly got there. He was standing directly in front of the target, covering it from view. "Move so I can see." He stepped aside with a wince. He'd seen the results, and quite frankly, he hadn't meant to be so scarily precise. Just as instinctive shooting suggested, he had tried it all on instinct alone.

The instructor turned around with speculation in his eyes. "Impressive, Cub." he remarked nonchalantly. "Let's go back and try it on one of the longer targets. We'll try for some different guns while we're at this."

"No problem, sir."

They went back and, at a longer distance, Alex let five bullets fly. Again, they walked up to the target.

Lieutenant Connolly looked at him coolly. "You were taught briefly?" were his only words as they went back once more. They did this with the SIG Sauer P226 three more times on the long range, with ten bullets per shoot. Alex was handed another gun.

"Do you know this one?"

"Of course. The Browning High Power, otherwise known as L9A1. Able to hold thirteen rounds, the hammer has to be pulled back before shooting. You guys don't use this one much anymore, right?"

"Right."

And so, they went on to dismantling and reassembling and shooting and checking and more shooting, until, suddenly, Connolly was called away.

"Okay," he said. "I've seen enough, Cub. You have about another twenty to twenty-five minutes before this lesson ends. You can choose another make and model of a gun if you ask Lieutenant Baldwin over there. He's in charge of guns at the firing range at the moment. And remember, when you're here, you're taught to improve your aim, your stance, on how to disassemble and reassemble your guns properly. Nothing else, nothing more. Well, just a little bit more, but not by much."

"Yes, sir."

Lieutenant Connolly let out a snort and left Alex alone.

He turned around to place the gun down, before taking out his own SIG.

"Nice gun you pulled out there."

Of course, it hadn't escaped his notice that F Unit was there at the shooting range. He'd chosen to ignore it, but, evidently, Bear hadn't.

"What do you want, Bear?" Alex asked as he began to deftly disassemble it.

"Nothing," he acclaimed innocently. "I just saw you over here with Connolly, doing some shooting."

"He was assessing me."

"Ah, I see. Didn't expect the standards of SAS to be so high? What everyone would expect of a brat who's still wet behind the ears." The thinly veiled contempt would be glaringly obvious to a spy, which Alex was. He didn't commentate on it though. Where was Bear going with this?

"Nothing I can't handle." He brushed his fingers over the sleek (now whole) gun. Finger on the trigger, and arm left dangling at his side, he turned to Bear. "I'm going to ask again; _what_ do you want, Bear?" There was no heat. He could see the rest of F Unit noticing Bear and him; they were heading towards them now.

Alex felt tired again.

"What are you doing over here, Bear?" Falcon. His eyes watched them both carefully.

"Talking to my new acquaintance – meet Cub, guys." His mocking tone washed through Alex.

"Well, don't just –" Falcon was abruptly, yet decidedly, cut off.

Enough. He had had enough. He glanced at Bear, before flippantly turning away and shooting three times.

The unexpected gunshots surprised F Unit, seeing as they were also in the middle of talking. "I," Alex irritably started. "Know you have no malicious intentions toward me, Falcon, but your partner here seems to disagree." He looked at the person in question. "Are you going to answer me?"

He gave a derisive chuckle. "Threatening me and now putting the blame on me. Does K Unit know how rude their new little boytoy is?"

"Bear!" reprimanded one of the others; Jackal, Alex thought his name was.

Internally, he shrugged. Just another day in his life. He swung the gun around to point it at Bear's foolishly big head.

It didn't matter that not a moment ago, F Unit was protesting their teammate's behaviour, someone – a veritable stranger, an unknown factor – was holding a weapon at their sharpshooter. Hands either went to where their weapon was placed, or guns were already withdrawn and aiming.

Alex gazed over at Falcon, the only one in the group who hadn't drawn his gun. Bear was quick enough to have his gun up, too.

Others from around the firing range were starting to take in that something wasn't right over here. Someone saw the guns that were raised and yelled out in alarm. Soldiers and instructors alike suddenly converged to the stand off between F Unit and this person they'd never met before.

"Put the weapon down!" shouted the one Alex recognised as Lieutenant Baldwin.

"Shut up before I shoot you, too." he said harshly before facing F Unit again.

Vaguely further away, he heard someone calling for someone else to go grab Sergeant Sanders. Fat good that would do.

"Do you remember what I told you this morning?" he directed to Bear. Alex didn't give him a chance to return an answer. "Of course you do. Well, now I'll demonstrate on your pitiable self that I _wasn't_ bluffing."

Clearly about to pull the trigger, Falcon raised a hand in front of his teammate. His instincts told him that the kid before him was absolutely serious. But Cub wouldn't shoot him, would he? "Cub." he said. "Think before you start shooting. You won't get out of here alive."

Alex just rolled his eyes and waved his gun along. "Out of the way, Falcon, before I decide I don't like you either."

"Cub!"

"Oh, fucking great timing!" he muttered. He didn't turn around. "What do you want, Eagle?" They'd drawn a crowd, and with his gun still trained on one of their soldiers, it was a wonder they still hadn't shot him yet.

"Cub?" Cheetah.

Wolf and Snake, assuming that they had heard the commotion and were there too, didn't say anything.

"What the hell are you doing?" Snake.

"Put the fucking gun down, Jesus, what are you thinking, Cub?" Wolf.

Ah, there they were.

"Control your soldier, Wolf, or I _will _shoot to kill!" Lieutenant Baldwin?

On his peripheral, Alex noticed the highly strung crowd part ways for someone. "You fucking shoot, Baldwin, and you will have an international crisis on your hands."

"W–What?"

Sergeant Sanders, a man of bona fide authority, came into view. "Let me repeat myself in simpler terms. If there is so much as a scratch on him, you can all consider yourselves as good as dishonorably discharged." Protests ran the soldiers.

Alex grimaced. "Laying it on them a bit thick, don't you think, Sanders?" He might be all for K Unit knowing exactly who he is, but _these_ people? Strangers whom he'd never even worked with? Not for a million years.

"I don't even want to know how many people will be after my head if you leave Brecon Beacons in less than perfect condition."

"I'm not that important," his pained expression was trying to tell Sanders to shut the hell up.

Either the man was incredibly slow, or he was purposely not paying attention to Alex. "You're a walking political nightmare. Don't try to downplay yourself, Cub, it'll only make things worse." He glared at the crowd. "All of you fucking get back to your classes. _Now_. No one's going to die, not today, and not tomorrow. So, _go_."

Once again, protests were brought up as F Unit were their friends, but knowing Sanders was a capable man, and seeing that Cub was seemingly listening to the man, they begrudgingly left.

The instructors of the firing range, K Unit, F Unit and Sanders were all who stayed.

During that whole time, Alex never relaxed his aim on Bear.

"Ah, Cub," asked Cheetah. K Unit looked quite queasy. "Do you, er, mind telling us _why_ you're holding a gun to Bear's head."

"Falcon," he addressed as he let them all relax by putting his gun away. "Your Bear is quite the irritating man." He left it at that and withdrew from the group. "Sanders, holler when you need me. I'll come to you."

"He just pointed a gun at one of our men, and you just let him walk off?!"

"Calm down, Con."

"Calm down?" he said incredulously. "Did you not witness what was happening?"

Quite angry at their stupid misconceptions of Alex, Sanders ignored Captain Con Gregson; none of them knew Alex as anyone other than 'Cub'. His sense of loyalty to the young spy prevented him from beating them all within an inch of their lives and smugly telling them of Alex Rider.

God _damn_ it. Did no one here know how dangerous Cub truly was?

"He's greener than grass. For God's sake, Dan, he's just been recruited!"

Had he spoken out loud? He couldn't take it back now, could he? God, he was beginning to see how Cub would always clash with his soldiers. He turned around to glower at the speaker; Lieutenant Jack Langley. Everyone forever made fun of him for his last name at BB. They always joked about how he would get into America and make it with CIA. Langley and all that. "For your information, _Jack_, Cub has been with the SAS for the past five fucking years." Anger was boiling beneath the surface. God, he was _seething_; but for _what?_ He wanted to pull at his hair and have a round with some of the soldiers – Cub's secret complicated so many things. Why were his men so _stupid?_

K Unit stood at his back, while F Unit and the other instructors stood opposite them. Sanders felt disconcerted; Alex let K Unit in an inch, that had to mean something, right? Even now, they were verifying his words.

How do you clean up such a public display of someone so willing to commit casual murder in front of soldiers?

"Bear," he caught their attention. "What the hell happened with Cub?"

"Nothing," the man shrugged. "I was here, with F Unit, just trying to make some small talk to welcome the new guy and –"

"How many times do I have to say it?" Sanders said tightly. "Cub is _not_ new. He's got experience. Now tell me what you did wrong."

Bear huffed. "He threatened to shoot my head off this morning; he was about to 'demonstrate that he wasn't bluffing' just now."

Gregson, Langley and Baldwin were trying to have their input and Sanders could feel a headache coming on. The pile of paperwork on his desk had gotten bigger since this morning. "Will you all just _shut up_ for a minute?"

His authority had its perks. "Okay," he pinched his nose. "Firstly, I don't fucking care if Cub threatened you, Bear." That kind of rained on Bear's parade, so to speak.

"Now,what _I_ want to know, is _why_ did Cub threaten you?" He put up a finger as that intolerable man opened his mouth. "Don't you dare try to lie to me, Bear – Cub will tell me the truth, and if it doesn't match up to yours... Well then, you don't want to know."

"You'd believe a boy like him over me?!"

Not being able to tell them who Cub was, was getting hurtful to the point of pain. "That _boy_ is honest to a fault. If there _was _fault in what he did, he'll own up to it."

"And what? He won't get punished because he's so _important_?" he sneered.

"He's been through worse punishment than anything we can dish out here." said Sanders. "I can punish him all I want; he's not going to complain. As for you, Bear, I'm sure you'll squeal like a stuck pig when it comes to who's tougher. You know what? Don't even bother talking. I'll get it from Cub. F Unit, come to my office after dinner." He looked at the instructors. "Men, come to me in half an hour. K Unit, you come with me now."

As they went together, Eagle turned troubled eyes to him. "Sir? What did you mean when you said all that stuff about Cub?"

Sergeant Sanders sighed. He'd known this was coming since day one, he just hadn't known it would attract such attention from everyone. What was it about Alex that had all his soldiers on edge?

"Don't worry, Eagle, you'll get your answers soon."

He massaged his temple as the pounding in his head got worse. God, he needed a holiday.

* * *

**Author's Note: I don't know. I don't know. Bloody hell. I don't know. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry**

**This wasn't at all where this chapter was meant to go. But it's been two weeks, and I said I would update. But I don't know. I wrote the majority of this chapter last night. Like most of my writing, it's not perfection, but I, for one, was not keen on making you all wait even more. I struggled to end it as I slipped in and out of sleep.**

**I'll redo this if you guys don't like it. My writing is like footy; you throw the ball in one direction, expecting it to go its course, but it bounces into a completely different path. Maybe even back to hit you in the face.**

**Once again, I apologise for this stupid stupid stupid stupid chapter. WHY IS WRITING AR FF SO HARD :(**

**Question for the reviewers: Did you enjoy this? Or do you want me to change this into something different? Because I will.**

**Willingly yours,  
****Frustrated AR writer; at your complete and utter service.**


	7. Chapter 7

Eagle didn't know what to think about Cub anymore.

_Cub pointed a gun at Bear._

_Cub._

_Cub._

_Cub –_

What the hell.

He'd thought they'd been making headway with Cub, having him telling them about bits and pieces of his life, when in reality, they didn't know him at all. And as the knowledge hit him, he felt even more discomforted.

A nineteen year old holding a gun at a fully grown, military-trained, armed man. It might have been laughably funny if the nineteen year old wasn't Cub.

He'd look so unconcerned, standing there with his gun, surrounded by other soldiers who had gathered toward the commotion. Being threatened that they would shoot if he didn't put his gun down hadn't seemed to affect him at all. In fact, if he'd looked almost _bored_.

And the things that Sergeant Sanders had said...

Eagle was getting a feeling of dread at the bottom of his stomach. Whoever Cub was, he was someone with power. Something that wouldn't dwell well with K Unit. None of them were great around people of distinction.

They were stiff, cold and quite unfriendly.

Or so it'd been said. Or complained.

But, Eagle had to admit, it was also on the part of the person. They demanded respect, they expected others to grovel at their feet simply because of their _divine _station, and sought others to do their bidding just because they'd said so. K Unit absolutely hated being forced to do another's needless commands.

_What if he's not like the others? He didn't act like those haughty little brats. And what about the 'Did no one here know how dangerous Cub truly was?' that Sanders had voiced. Those scars. The way he spoke. The way he acted. His connection to MI6. Who was Cub? So many questions to be answered. _

His brain hurt.

* * *

"Who the hell _was_ that?"

"I don't know, but I've never seen him before, so he has to be new."

"You heard what Dan said though..."

"Why didn't somebody just shoot him?"

"God, did you see him? If it weren't for Falcon, he would have shot Bear straight through."

"But in the middle of an SAS training base? The guy's fucking nuts."

The meaningless chatter was drowned out by the force of his thoughts. Would Cub have really pulled the trigger had he not stepped in front of Bear?

"Falcon!"

Leader of F Unit, Falcon turned around to see Lieutenant Baldwin walking up to him, eyes ablaze. "Why the _hell_ was that guy holding a gun up to Bear?"

He wanted to have two sides of the story before he said anything. Bear could provoke a lot of people when he wanted to, but to overreact with shooting someone...

"He introduced himself as Cub, this morning," he droned.

Baldwin let out a sound of anger and rolled his neck and shoulders. "Jesus, this is a mess, what the hell is Sanders thinking?"

Falcon shrugged hopelessly; anyone watching could've seen that everybody was out of their depth. They'd never had one of their own do this before.

When he finally noticed that everyone had gone all but silent, he looked up to see an approaching man.

Lieutenant Connolly had come back from wherever he'd been called off to. "Hey, what are you all –" he felt the tense atmosphere and immediately took on an arrested expression. He looked over F Unit and his other friends. "What's all this," he gestured toward them. "About?"

Between the four of them – Baldwin, Langley, Gregson, and Connolly – everybody kind of saw Connolly as the acknowledged leader. Not that he acted so, but there was an ability in him to make people inadvertently trust and listen to him.

"That soldier you were assessing, Connolly? He was going to shoot Bear."

"Blunt, Jack," he said. "But straight to the point. Okay, someone fill in the blanks, otherwise I'll stay confused."

An angry Baldwin took up the offer, and continued to describe and paint Cub in the worst possible light. Falcon let it slide; the man was feeling defensive and deserved to have a bit of a rant.

"And you had to have been here to hear what Dan said. He called the kid _dangerous_! Can you believe that?"

"Actually, yeah, I can."

"Huh?"

"Well, when I was, you know, assessing him and all that – wait, let me just show you." And he took off to the targets.

"Show me –? Show me _what_, Connolly!" Baldwin shouted after him.

F Unit and the lieutenants had to wait for a minute in tense silence before Connolly came back with a bunch of sheets in his arms.

He then proceeded to fan each and every one of them out on the ground. Hands on his hips, he stood there and studied the target papers so intensely, that the others had to look, too.

There were seven in total and, for a moment or two, Falcon failed to see what they were looking at. Then it dawned on him, "Lieutenant Connolly..." he dragged out slowly. Everyone but the man he was talking to raised their head. "Who do these belong to?"

Dark eyes flashing up, Connolly finally answered Falcon. "Cub – the soldier I was assessing." Although his words sounded almost cheerful, his eyes told another story.

Within the center of each target, were three to four distinct holes, some larger than the others.

"See these holes?" Connolly gestured. "Looks like only a few shots were fired, right?"

Everybody agreed.

"Hate to burst your bubbles, men," he said grimly. "But I can tell you now that at least five shots were fired for each target." He raised up a hand as eyes widened. "Now, now, I know what you're all thinking; _But there are only four holes._ When I first saw it, I had only two excuses in my head. One, either he got lucky, or two, he hadn't done the five shots like I'd asked him to... But as we progressed along, option two was out because I could hear the shots, and then one was out. A guy can't be that lucky every time he fires a gun."

Connolly stroked his chin in thought. "You know what else struck me? He knew each gun he used, and which caliber you use with it. And I swear, the way he dissembled and reassemble the guns... it was like he did it without a second thought. And then when he started to do that thing we soldiers do – instinctive firing, yeah? And I didn't say it then, but if I weren't the one meant to be instructing, I would have said he was more in sync with the gun then _I'_d ever be."

Jackal shook his head in disbelief, then looked to Baldwin. "Now tell us someone who's shot at least thirty-five rounds and hasn't missed the center once isn't dangerous. Someone who Lieutenant Connolly's admitted to being a better shot than he is. Someone who stood there without a care in the world as guns were trained on him. Someone who was confident enough to hold a gun to Bear's head in the middle of a SAS camp. And let's not forget just how much Sergeant Sanders stressed to us how _politically and internationally important_ this guy is."

"Lay off the sarcasm, Jackal," said the fourth member of F Unit, Leopard. "I think we all understand."

"Of course, you do," Jackal made eye contact with everyone, a mischievous light in the blue orbs that made them all instantly wary. He grinned. "We can't touch the new guy until we know everything about him."

* * *

**Author's Note: I am so sorry for the delay in updating! My laptop crashed and burned (not literally, but close enough), and I haven't been able to access my writing****. My laptop is still broken and I'm not sure when it'll be finally fixed. Bear with me guys, as my updates are going to be few and far between as I work to get everything fixed and struggle to continue writing thousands of words when I don't have a laptop. **

**What I've written here was all done on my Ipod. Do any of you have any idea how hard it is to write on your Ipod? Especially when making sure the grammar and punctuation is correct. It made me want to throw the electronic device at a wall; but I thought of you guys and remembered why I was still writing this story.**

**I'm going to get the rest of this chapter done as fast as I can, which mightn't be very fast. It'll be a slow couple of weeks, and I thank you for waiting.**

**This little tidbit is basically a prelude – a build up – to what's going to happen next. And to keep you a little satisfied – or to keep you hooked on this story – for a little longer.  
**

**P.S. A few tiny (or not so tiny!) surprises are coming along very soon. Take a guess at what they might be. I'm very sure most of you will get it wrong. Or hell, I might even use your suggestions myself if they're good enough.**

**P.P.S. One more thing. Alex Rider's actions aren't OOC in any way, for those who have expressed this concern. You just have to sit back, and wait for a couple more chapters to understand who he is and why he does some certain things. **

**Thank you.**


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